TJiit 


<hP7 


*-*- 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER 


A    NOVEL 


MRS.  W. 


BY 

K.   CLIFFORD 


AUTHOR    OF    LOVE    LETTERS    OF    A    WORLDLY    WOMAN, 
AUNT   ANNE,    ETC. 


NEW    YORK 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1894 


Copyright,  1894, 
By  MRS.  W.  K.   CLIFFORD. 


Electrotyped  and  Printed 

AT  THE  APPLETOU   PitESS,  L  .  C.  A. 


.... 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Everyone  on  Shooter's  Hill  had  known 
Katherine  Kerr  by  sight  since  she  was  six 
years  old.  She  seemed  to  be  always  walking 
up  or  down  the  great  Dover  Road  —  that 
wonderful  road  that  stretches  from  London, 
through  New  Cross  and  Lewisham,  across 
Blackheath,  over  Shooter's  Hill  to  Welling 
and  Bexley,  and  away  to  the  coast  far  beyond. 
Every  morning  she  came  out  of  the  White 
House,  that  was  hidden  among  the  trees,  at 
the  corner  of  the  little  road  that  leads  to  Sev- 
erndroog,  and  walked  down  the  garden  path- 
way with   the  beeches  overhead,  opened  the 

iron  gate  and  came  out  on  to  the  high  road. 

(i) 


912833 


2  A  FLASfe   OF  SUMMER. 

Close  to  the  gate  v®fc  a  well  to  which  the 
inhabitants  went  with  their  pails  in  days  of 
drought  before  the  water  company  came  to 
help  them.  Just  below  was  the  grey  little 
church,  and  opposite  was  the  post-office,  es- 
tablished for  many  a  long  year  at  an  unobtru- 
sive general  shop ;  and  next  to  the  post-office 
the  Red  Lion,  with  its  wide  quadrangle  and 
tea  gardens  that  were  almost  rural.  To  the 
tea  gardens,  on  Sunday  nights,  the  soldiers 
from  Woolwich  and  the  Government  servants 
from  the  Royal  Military  Academy  brought 
their  sweethearts,  and  sat  with  them  at  little 
wooden  tables  in  trellis-made  summer-houses, 
drinking  beer.  They  grew  jovial  as  the  even- 
ing went  on.  Katherine  listened  to  their 
snatches  of  song  and  the  din  of  voices  till 
darkness  fell,  and  perhaps  faint  in  the  dis- 
tance the  bugle-call  was  heard:  then  gradu- 
ally the  merriment  was  hushed,  and  two  and 
two,  always  a  he  and  she,  the  Sunday  crowds 
went  down  the  hill  and  turned  to  the  right 
towards  the  barracks.      The   little  road  they 


A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  3 

took  was  known  as  The  Lane,  and  led  to 
Woolwich :  at  one  corner  of  it  was  a  stuffed- 
bird  shop,  and  on  one  side  of  the  shop  win- 
dow were  toys  and  story-books  for  children. 
Katherine  looked  in  at  them  now  and  then, 
and  hesitated  before  she  spent  a  stray  penny 
on  "  Jack  and  the  Beanstalk"  or  " Cinderella." 
At  the  other  corner  were  four  houses  standing 
in  a  block,  known  as  Ordnance  Terrace.  In 
the  garden  of  the  first  house  there  was  a 
peach-tree  trained  up  against  the  stable :  and 
she  used  to  see  the  flushed  fruit  among  the 
long  narrow  leaves  in  the  late  summer,  and 
think  how  good  it  would  be  to  touch  it  with 
her  fingers.  Lower  down  was  a  plantation  to 
which  the  Artillery  men  came  in  the  morning 
to  exercise  their  horses,  and  the  clatter  of 
hoofs,  and  the  shrill  bugle,  and  the  rushing 
among  the  trees  made  her  wonder  if  it  was 
like  a  battlefield.  Opposite,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  main  road,  was  a  wide  expanse  of  gorse 
and  blackberry  bushes,  the  great  trees  of  Sev- 
erndroog  and  its  ruined  tower  showing  above 


4  A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

them  on  the  left;  and  on  the  right,  beyond 
the  Scrubs,  as  the  tangle  of  bushes  was  called, 
a  narrow  road  that  led  to  Eltham  went  across 
the  landscape,  and  far  beyond  it  stretched  the 
open  country,  showing  the  Crystal  Palace  in 
the  distance. 

In  the  morning,  when  she  came  out  of  the 
gate — every  morning  of  her  life  from  six  to 
seventeen,  save  on  Sundays  and  during  the 
brief  holiday  periods — Katherine  turned  to  her 
left  and  went  down  the  hill,  past  the  church 
on  one  side  and  the  inn  on  the  other,  past  the 
stuffed-bird  shop  and  The  Lane  that  led  to 
Woolwich,  and  the  four  houses  and  the  planta- 
tion and  the  Scrubs.  Then  she  came  to  where 
four  roads  met,  or,  rather,  two  branched  off, 
right  and  left,  the  one  on  the  left  to  Eltham 
and  the  one  on  the  right  to  Woolwich,  for  the 
road  behind  her  going  upwards,  and  in  front 
of  her  going  downwards,  was  but  the  same 
great  one.  She  used  to  stop  for  a  moment 
quite  punctually  at  a  quarter  past  nine  and 
look  down    the  one   that  led   to    Woolwich, 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  5 

wondering  if  by  chance  the  soldiers  were  com- 
ing and  with  them  their  band.  If  there  was 
no  sign  of  them  she  would  look  to  the  left  to- 
wards Eltham.  At  Eltham  was  an  old  palace 
that  had  a  moat,  and  on  the  edge  of  the  moat 
a  crane  stood  on  one  leg.  She  always  lingered 
on  the  bridge  leading  to  the  palace  to  look  at 
the  moat  and  wonder  what  the  crane  thought 
about.  She  felt  it  had  lived  for  hundreds  of 
years,  and  remembered  Henry  VIII.  and  Anne 
Boleyn  dancing  in  the  great  hall  that  was  now 
a  ruin :  and  she  wished  she  had  been  alive  in 
those  days  to  entreat  the  King  not  to  cut  off 
Anne's  head. 

But  she  never  had  time  to  linger  at  the 
cross-roads  ;  the  fear  of  Uncle  Robert  was  be- 
fore her  eyes,  still  more  of  the  tale  telling  of 
Susan  Barnes,  who  had  looked  after  the  house 
since  Aunt  Evelina's  death.  So  leaving  her 
dreams  of  romance  behind  she  walked  on  half 
a  mile  and,  just  as  she  came  in  sight  of  the 
mile-stone  in  the  distance,  stopped  at  a  long 
low  white  house  on  the  left.     The  house  had  a 


6  A  FLASH  OP  SUMMER. 

little  narrow  garden  in  front  and  green  Vene- 
tian blinds  to  its  windows,  that  winter  and 
summer  were  always  open.  This  was  Mrs. 
Barrett's  school.  Katherine  went  as  a  morn- 
ing pupil,  from  half -past  nine  to  one,  and  car- 
ried a  mighty  list  of  lessons  back  with  her  to 
learn  in  the  drawing-room  of  the  White  House 
by  Severndroog.  She  hardly  knew  her  school- 
fellows, for  Mr.  Morris  (her  uncle)  did  not 
wish  her  to  make  friends,  and  allowed  no 
visitors.  But  the  school-hours  were  happy 
enough,  for  Mrs.  Barrett  was  fond  of  the  little 
lonely  girl,  and  looked  at  her  in  a  somewhat 
kindlier  fashion  than  she  did  at  the  rest  of  her 
pupils  ;  and  once — this  was  when  she  was 
twelve  years  old — she  gave  her  as  a  birthday 
gift  a  little  black  satin  workbag  embroid- 
ered with  forget-me-nots.  Katherine  kept  it 
hidden  away  in  a  drawer,  and  thought  it  too 
precious  a  thing  even  to  look  at  very  often. 

At  one  o'clock  she  sallied  forth  from  her 
school  along  the  road  again,  never  forgetting 
to  turn  her  head  when  she  came  to  the  turn- 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  7 

ings  to  the  right  and  left,  and  went  up  the  hill 
and  back  to  the  White  House.  Susan  Barnes 
was  always  waiting  with  a  sharp  eye  to  see 
whether  she  had  dust  or  mud  on  her  shoes, 
and  a  quick  injunction  to  get  ready  for  din- 
ner. After  dinner — she  ate  it  alone  four 
days  a  week — she  worked  at  her  lessons  till 
tea-time  :  then  Uncle  Robert  came  home.  , 

"Well,  what  have  you  been  doing?"  he 
would  ask.  She  answered  nothing,  for  she 
was  always  in  awe  of  him.  "  Behaved  your- 
self, eh?"  On  Susan's  answer  depended  the 
rest  of  the  day. 

"Oh,  she's  been  tiresome,  as  usual,"  the 
woman  would  say  sometimes — "started  five 
minutes  late  for  school  and  no  one  knows 
what  she  did  coming  back — it  was  five-and- 
twenty  minutes  past  one  by  the  clock  before 
she  entered  the  gate,  and  then,  instead  of 
having  her  gloves  on,  she  carried  them  all  in 
a  screw." 

"Oh,  that  was  it!  I  suppose  you  were 
thinking  of   the   soldiers  or  watching  for  the 


8  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

band :  well,  that's  to  make  you  do  it  again ! " 
and  he  would  give  her  a  cuff  on  the  ears. 
Then  she  hid  herself  away  to  cry,  but  did 
not  hate  him  in  the  least,  for  she  remembered 
that  just  as  he  scolded  her  now  so  he  used 
to  scold  her  Aunt  Evelina.  It  was  only  a  mat- 
ter of  course. 

If  Susan  gave  a  good  report  he  would 
sometimes  take  her  for  a  walk  in  the  evening. 
They  generally  went  up  the  hill  ;  he  and  she 
and  Martyr,  the  big  black  dog.  The  road  as 
it  ascended  had  been  cut  far  back  in  the  old 
coaching  days  so  as  to  make  it  less  steep  for 
the  horses.  On  either  side  was  the  high  foot- 
way protected  by  a  hand-rail,  and  behind  it 
on  the  left  she  could  see  the  top  windows  of 
old-fashioned  houses  standing  a  little  way 
back  behind  tall  fences  and  garden  gates.  On 
the  right  there  were  hedges  and  thick  trees, 
bordering  the  grounds  belonging  to  more  im- 
portant dwellings.  Katherine  used  to  think 
of  the  stage  coaches  as  she  walked  silently 
beside  her  uncle,  of  the  highwaymen,  and  the 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  9 

legends  of  Robin  Hood  and  Maid  Marian.  On 
the  top  of  the  hill  there  was  an  old  inn  called 
The  Bull,  and  a  little  way  from  the  door, 
against  a  tree  under  which  the  coaches  used  to 
draw  up,  some  white  stone  steps  by  which  the 
travellers  mounted  to  their  places.  When,  she 
had  looked  at  the  inn,  she  turned  her  head 
quickly  in  order  to  catch  sight  of  a  little 
path  on  the  other  side  of  the  way  that  led 
through  some  woods  and  round  by  the  back 
of  Severndroog  tower  and  over  some  fields  to 
Eltham.  There  were  many  delights  in  the 
woods,  for  they  were  full  of  nut-trees,  and  iu 
the  autumn  the  nuts  hung  thick  and  green,  and 
amid  the  bracken  and  briar  and  underwood 
the  blackberries  and  wild  raspberries  trailed. 
Sometimes,  if  Uncle  Robert  were  in  a  good 
humour,  Katherine  would  push  her  hand  into 
his— it  was  not  till  she  was  ten  or  twelve  years 
old  that  she  ventured  on  this  little  coaxing— 
and  say,  "  Let's  go  through  the  wood."  Per- 
haps he  would  say  curtly,  in  a  manner  that 
made  her  feel  how  absolute  was  his  power— 


10  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"No;  I  want  to  go  another  way."  Then 
they  trudged  on  toward  Welling  and  over 
Shoulder  -  of  -  Mutton  Green,  and  home  by 
Plumstead  Lane — a  long  walk  for  a  little  girl ; 
it  made  her  feet  sore  and  aching.  But  there 
were  compensations,  especially  in  September 
when  a  flock  of  geese  waddled  over  the 
Green ;  or  in  June  when  they  went  down 
Plumstead  Lane  and  past  the  strawberry -gar- 
den. Once  or  twice  in  the  summer  after  Mr. 
Belcher  first  came  from  town  and  went  back 
again  when  he  had  had  some  tea  and  seen  the 
view  from  the  White  House  windows,  Uncle 
Robert,  in  high  good  humour,  took  her  into 
the  strawberry-garden.  Then  she  sat  in  a  little 
summer-house  and  ate  the  reddest  strawberries 
that  ever  ripened  in  the  sun,  watching  the 
while  some  beehives  in  a  far  corner.  She  was 
afraid  of  the  bees  ;  bnt  it  was  a  wonderful 
thing  to  think  of  the  inside  of  the  hives,  with 
a  bee  asleep  in  each  little  cell.  In  the  middle 
of  the  garden  was  a  scarecrow  made  of  two 
sticks  put  crossways  and  a  coat  and  an  old 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  H 

hat,  with  a  mask  for  a  face,  and  each  armless 
sleeve  had  a  strawberry  pottle  sewn  to  the  end 
of  it.  It  was  worth  being  footsore  and  weary- 
to  go  to  the  strawberry -garden,  or  even  to  pass 
it  by,  and  to  remember  that  she  had  seen  the 
geese  on  the  Green  and  the  scarecrow,  which 
was  visible  enough  from  the  road,  and  the  still 
beehive,  all  in  one  evening. 

Or  perhaps  Uncle  Robert  would  give  in 
about  the  woods.  Then  they  had  a  lovely 
walk  :  adown  the  narrow  pathway  under  the 
trees  till  they  came  to  the  stile — a  difficult, 
awkward  stile  that  Katherine  delighted  in 
ciimbing — through  green  fields,  and  over  a 
corn-field  in  which  the  poppies  grew  so  thick 
she  could  have  gathered  an  armful  in  two  min- 
utes but  that  she  knew  Uncle  Robert  would 
have  strode  on  without  waiting  for  her,  and 
through  the  churchyard,  against  which  there 
were  some  cottages,  as  though  the  dead  and 
the  living  lived  in  friendly  communion.  Thus 
they  went  to  Eltham,  and  from  Eltham,  when 
they  had  seen  the  palace  and  the  crane,  they 


12  A  FLASH  OP  SUMMER. 

walked  along  the  road  Katherine  passed  on 
her  way  to  school  and  so  up  the  hill  again  to 
the  White  House. 

But  these  walks  were  only  in  the  summer. 
In  the  winter- time  her  daily  exercise  was  con- 
fined to  going  to  and  fro  from  Mrs.  Barrett's, 
and  sometimes  in  the  afternoon  to  the  post- 
office  and  back  with  Martyr ;  or,  but  still  less 
often,  to  Woolwich  with  Susan  Barnes  to 
shop.  When  they  went  to  Woolwich  they  did 
not  go  down  between  the  stuffed-bird  shop  and 
Ordnance  Terrace  ;  there  was  a  short  cut  high- 
er up,  a  little  steep  way  called  Constitution 
Hill,  that  led  into  The  Lane  lower  down  than 
wrhere  it  started  from  the  main  road.  It  came 
out  opposite  a  public-house  called  The  Eagle, 
that  also  had  tea-gardens  belonging  to  it.  A 
man  with  a  fair  beard  was  generally  standing 
at  the  door.  He  was  called  Harding,  and  as 
she  went  by  he  used  to  say  " — Morning,  Miss, 
is  the  master  quite  well?"  She  always  an- 
swered "Yes,  thank  you,  Mr.  Harding,"  and 
walked  on  demurely  beside  Susan  Barnes,  who 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  13 

never  condescended  even  to  look  at  him  :  for 
though  Susan  seldom  went  to  church  she  had 
very  strong  opinions,  and  considered  that  Mr. 
Harding  was  a  publican  and  a  sinner.  The 
walk  to  Woolwich  was  an  event  in  her  quiet 
life — under  the  trees  on  the  common  and  on 
through  the  white  gate  towards  the  Artillery 
barracks,^ with  the  wide  field  in  front,  and  the 
Rotunda  in  the  distance  :  sometimes  the  band 
was  playing,  or  the  soldiers  being  drilled  on 
the  parade  as  she  and  Susan  went  down 
towards  the  narrow  streets  of  the  town.  If 
Susan's  manner  relaxed  in  the  bustle  of  shop- 
ping, she  would  take  Katherine  into  the  con- 
fectioner's at  Green's  End,  and  say  in  her 
hard,  respectful  voice : 

"  Better  sit  down  and  eat  a  cheese-cake  or 
two,  Miss  Katherine  ;  it's  a  long  way  back." 

Katherine  used  to  wonder,  as  they  went  up 
the  hill  in  the  cold,  grey  twilight  of  the  win- 
ter, why  so  many  people  came  to  live  in  the 
world,  and  what  they  all  thought  about  it, 
and  whether  they  felt  as  she  did,  that  it  was 


14  A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

full  of  mysteries  and  barriers.  But  after  all 
if  life  was  occasionally  a  dull  thing  to  her 
and  some  days  had  their  blows  or  bitternesses, 
there  was  the  expectancy  of  youth  in  her 
heart,  and  the  waiting  for  the  unknown  that 
makes  all  things  seem  like  passing  clouds. 
The  winter  evenings  were  difficult  to  get 
through.  She  sat  in  the  drawing-room  alone, 
and  was  supposed  to  sew  till  eight  o'clock ; 
but  she  used  to  get  up  now  and  then  to  play 
at  battledore  and  shuttlecock  :  for  the  draw- 
ing-room was  not  crowded  with  furniture  like 
those  of  modern  days,  and  there  was  a  wide 
space  between  the  round  table  and  the  grand 
piano.  At  eight  o'clock  she  went  down-stairs 
to  say  good-night  to  Uncle  Robert,  and  stayed 
in  the  dining-room  to  drink  a  glass  of  milk 
and  eat  three  picnic  biscuits  before  going 
to  bed. 

This  was  her  life  til]  she  was  nearly  four- 
teen. Then  one  morning  just  as  Uncle  Robert 
was  getting  ready  to  go  to  town  a  letter  came 
with  many  foreign  stamps  upon  it:   when  he 


A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  15 

had  read  it  he  turned  to  Katherine  with  a  face 
so  drawn  and  strange  that  she  was  frightened. 

"Go  and  fetch  Susan,"  he  said.  Susan 
went  into  the  dining-room  and  shut  the  door. 
Katherine  did  not  dare  enter  in  upon  them, 
besides  it  was  time  to  get  ready  for  school ;  but 
when  she  came  downstairs  five  minutes  later, 
she  could  hear  that  Susan  was  sobbing,  and 
her  heart  warmed  to  the  stern  old  woman  who 
had  taken  care  of  her  since  she  was  a  little 
girl.  She  opened  the  dining-room  door  a  little 
way  and  said  softly,  "May  I  come  in?  "  And 
Susan  answered  in  a  kinder  voice  than  usual, 
"Yes,  come  along,  Miss,  and  you  must  not  go 
to  school  to-day." 

So  Katherine  went  up  and  put  her  arms 
round  Susan  and  looked  at  Uncle  Robert,  who 
stood  quite  still  and  almost  rigid  by  the  table, 
on  which  the  open  letter  was  lying. 

"Mr.  Richard  is  dead,"  Susan  said.  "I 
knew  him  since  he  was  a  baby." 

"  When  did  he  die  % "  Katherine  whispered, 
awestruck. 


10  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"We  don't  know,"  Susan  answered,  wiping 
away  her  tears,  "but  you  must  have  a  black 
frock  before  you  can  be  seen  about  again. 
You  won't  go  to  town,  Sir,  to-day,  I  sup- 
pose %  "  she  asked  Mr.  Morris. 

"Yes,  I  shall  go;  I  want  to  see  Belcher." 
And  slowly  buttoning  his  coat,  Mr.  Morris 
went  out  and  down  the  pathway  to  the  garden 
gate  with  slow  hesitating  steps,  as  though  he 
had  been  half-stunned. 

"Ah,"  said  Susan,  as  she  looked  after  him 
shaking  her  head.  "He's  had  a  blow  from 
which  he'll  find  it  hard  to  rise.  He  thought 
he  knew  the  worst,  but  he  was  mistaken." 

"Who  was  Mr.  Richard?"  Katherine 
asked. 

"He  was  your  Uncle  Robert's  only  son." 

"  And  where  has  he  been  \  " 

There  was  some  hesitation  in  Susan's  man- 
ner before  she  answered — 

"  He  has  been  in  Australia,  and  other  parts. 
He  went  away,"  she  added  with  still  more 
hesitation,  "before  you  were  born.     He  never 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  17 

thought  to  see  him  again,  but  he  never  thought 
to  hear  that  he  was  dead ;  it  was  bad  enough 
without  that.  Well,  it  killed  his  mother  years 
ago." 

"What  killed  her?" 

"Mr.  Richard.  He  did  what  was  wrong 
and  had  to  go  away — they  sent  him  away," 
she  added  in  a  low  voice.  "They  knew  he'd 
never  come  back,  but  they  thought  perhaps 
some  day  he'd  be  all  right  out  there.  He  is 
no  relation  of  yours,  really,"  Susan  Barnes 
added.  "You  belong  to  the  mistress's  side  of 
the  family ;  so  you  needn't  think  there's  any- 
thing bad  in  your  blood — not  that  there  was  in 
his  either.     What  he  did  he  was  led  to  do." 

" Susan,"  Katherine  asked,  "have  I  any  re- 
lations besides  Uncle  Robert?  I  didn't  know 
there  was  Mr.  Richard." 

"Not  a  soul  that  I  know  of.  You  were  the 
daughter  of  the  mistress's  sister — half-sister 
she  was,  and  years  and  years  younger — and 
there  were  no  more  of  them,  but  just  those 
two.    Mistress  married  master,  and  your  moth- 


18  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

er  married  a  clergyman,  who  died  and  left  her 
with  nothing.  It  was  lucky  for  you  that  your 
Aunt  Evelina  took  you.  But  for  her,  you 
hadn't  a  relation  in  the  world  nor  a  stock  or 
stone  belonging  to  you." 

Then  Katherine  asked  a  question  that  had 
often  puzzled  her. 

"Did  Uncle  Robert  like  Aunt  Evelina  f" 

"Oh,  yes,  he  liked  her  well  enough;  but 
he  was  always  a  hard  man,  and  had  his  way 
wherever  he  went,  and  sometimes  she'd  sit 
down  and  cry  about  it  instead  of  getting  up 
and  doing  what  he  wanted.  If  he'd  been  a  bit 
softer  with  Mr.  Richard,  things  wouldn't  have 
been  so  hard  for  himself  now." 

"Are  they  hard  for  him?"  she  asked  won- 
deringly. 

"Yes,  and  they  have  been,  and  if  they 
hadn't  it  would  have  been  different  for  you. 
He  wouldn't  have  cuffed  you  so  often — I  be- 
lieve he's  fond  of  you  in  his  way ;  but  men  are 
always  hard  on  women  ;  they've  got  the  upper 
hand,  and  they  know  it — and  the  only  thing 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  19 

we  can  do  is  to  make  the  best  of  it.  After  all, 
they  earn  the  money,  and  they've  the  right  to 
be  master."  Then  Susan  went  to  the  window 
and  pulled  down  the  blind. 

"What  is  that  for?"  Katherine  asked,  for 
she  knew  nothing  about  death. 

"It's  for  Mr.  Richard — I  wouldn't  like  to 
think  we  didn't  make  the  house  dark  a  sin- 
gle day  for  him.  It  may  be  months  since  he 
died,  but  it's  only  this  morning  we  heard  of 
it.  You  are  all  your  Uncle  Robert's  got  left 
in  the  world  now,  Miss  Katherine.  There's 
Mr.  Belcher,  he  thinks  a  lot  of  him,  and " 

The  rest  of  Susan's  speech  was  lost  as  she 
went  upstairs  to  pull  down  the  bed-room 
blinds.  Katherine  felt  as  if  she  had  looked 
out  a  little  farther  into  the  world,  and  had 
drawn  back  disheartened,  for  she  had  only 
learnt  that  Mr.  Richard  had  gone  wrong  and 
died,  and  that  Aunt  Evelina  had  broken  her 
heart. 

Since  she  was  not  to  go  to  school  that  day, 
she  sat  still  for  a  while  and  thought  about  all 


20  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

manner  of  things  that  did  not  directly  concern 
herself.  For  as  yet  she  had  not  realised  that 
she  was  anything  more  than  a  creature  al- 
lowed almost  as  a  favour  to  live  in  the  world 
and  look  on  at  the  people  and  the  things  that 
were  in  it.  That  she  had  an  individuality  of 
her  own,  and  a  life  to  live,  a  capacity  to  suffer 
and  rejoice— that  she  was,  in  fact,  heiress  in 
common  with  the  rest  of  her  sex  to  all  the 
possibilities  of  humanity — had  not  yet  dawned 
upon  her.  She  was  only  a  lonely  school  girl, 
whom  experience  had  taught  to  submit,  and 
whose  sense  concerning  the  future  was  just 
the  curious  one  of  waiting. 

Susan's  revelations,  such  as  they  were,  drew 
her  nearer  to  Uncle  Robert.  She  had  always 
wanted  to  like  him,  but  had  been  half  afraid. 
Now  she  knew  that  any  harshness  he  had  shown 
her  had  not  been  unkindness  so  much  as  an  ex- 
pression of  many  things  he  had  suffered  himself : 
she  felt  a  little  frightened  tenderness  towards 
him,  and  wondered  if  she  could  do  anything  that 
would  please  him.     She  remembered  that  there 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  21 

were  some  wall-flowers  growing  in  the  garden, 
at  the  far  end  behind  the  bank  of  laurel :  she 
was  certain  he  did  not  know  they  were  there. 
She  had  stood  over  them  every  morning  before 
he  was  down,  and  softly  touched  their  petals : 
they  felt  like  velvet,  and  she  liked,  too,  the 
little  close  bunches  of  dark  buds.  Perhaps  he 
would  be  pleased  if  she  gathered  some  into  one 
of  the  blue  and  white  bowls,  and  put  it  on  the 
square  table  in  the  middle  of  his  bedroom. 
Once  or  twice  her  pupils  had  taken  Mrs. 
Barrett  a  bouquet  of  flowers  to  school ;  one  of 
them  gave  her  a  little  brass  bowl  on  her  birth- 
day filled  with  violets,  and  Mrs.  Barrett  had 
put  it  on  the  drawing-room  table,  and  looked 
happy  all  day  because  of  it.  Perhaps  Uncle 
Robert  would  be  pleased  too.  So  in  the  after- 
noon she  took  down  the  bowl  and  went  to  the 
garden  without  Susan  seeing  her,  for  she  did 
not  want  anyone  to  know  what  she  was  going 
to  do  :  she  felt  as  if  it  would  take  away  from 
its  tenderness.  She  filled  the  bowl  with  water 
from  the  pump  that  was  just  outside  the  house, 


22  A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

so  full  that  it  brimmed  over,  and  went  along 
the  pathway  under  the  beech  and  larch  trees, 
and  disappeared  behind  the  laurel  bank  and 
put  it  down  beside  her  while  she  gathered  the 
flowers,  carefully  sorting  the  shades  of  brown. 
Then  she  rose  up  from  her  knees,  and  was 
about  to  carry  it  in  her  two  hands  back  to  the 
house.  As  she  passed  the  back  door,  painted 
grey  and  with  a  little  heap  of  stones  beside  it, 
that  led  out  on  to  the  main  road,  a  key  turned 
in  the  lock.  Mr.  Morris  and  a  tall  dark  man 
of  about  two- and- thirty  entered  the  garden  so 
quickly  that  Katherine  started  and  dropped 
the  bowl,  which  scattered  itself  with  the  water 
and  flowers  at  her  feet. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?"  Mr.  Morris  asked. 
"  What  are  you  doing  ? "  She  looked  up  at  him 
with  a  white  face  and  two  blue  eyes  full  of  fright. 

"  I  was  going  to  put  some  flowers  in  your 
room— because  you  were  unhappy,"  she  said  in 
a  low  voice. 

The  tall  man  with  Uncle  Eobert  almost 
laughed  ;  she  saw  it  and  turned  away. 


A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  23 

"I  thought  you  would  be  pleased,"  she 
went  on  in  a  still  lower  voice,  as  if  she  re- 
sented being  heard  by  any  one  else. 

Mr.  Morris  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in 
silence. 

"Well,  never  mind,"  he  said  in  a  hard 
voice,  "have  that  mess  swept  up :  you  oughtn't 
to  pick  flowers  without  asking  leave.  I  don't 
want  to  see  you  again  to-day."  He  walked 
towards  the  house  without  another  word,  and 
Mr.  Belcher,  as  the  other  man  was  called,  fol- 
lowed him.  She  stooped  and  gathered  up  the 
flowers  in  one  hand  and  ruefully  put  the  bits 
of  broken  bowl  into  a  heap,  and  standing  on 
the  heap  of  stones,  threw  them  over  the  garden 
fence  into  the  ditch  behind.  Every  morning 
for  a  week  afterwards  she  used  to  see  them  on 
her  way  to  school,  till,  unable  to  bear  the  sight 
any  longer,  she  surreptitiously  buried  them. 

Then  she  hid  herself  behind  the  laurels, 
and  putting  her  gathered  flowers  a  little  way 
from  her,  gave  way  to  bitter  disappointment, 
till  hiding  her  face  in  her  arms  on  the  little 


24:  A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

grassy  bank,  she  broke  down  altogether,  and 
sobbed.  Presently  she  heard  the  sound  of  a 
footstep  and  started.  Mr.  Belcher  was  coming 
towards  her  with  the  amused  expression  still 
on  his  face. 

"In  disgrace,  eh?"  he  asked,  insultingly  it 
seemed  to  Katherine.  She  rose  to  her  feet  and 
stood  looking  at  him,  while  a  strange  dismay 
took  possession  of  her.  He  was  a  tall  man 
and  dark,  not  thin,  and  with  something  deter- 
mined in  his  gait.  He  had  brown  eyes,  cold 
and  large,  and  dark  hair  that  had  been  care- 
fully brushed  and  parted  on  one  side  ;  it  was 
not  thick,  and  it  lay  very  close  to  his  head. 
He  had  a  rather  long  upper  lip,  closely  shaven, 
a  firmly  shut  mouth,  and  little  side  whiskers. 
Though  he  was  only  two-and-thirty  he  looked 
older,  and  like  one  a  good  deal  taken  up  with 
the  affairs  of  life  :  keen,  and  with  an  eye  to 
main  chances.  There  was  something  method- 
ical in  his  manner  and  almost  cruel  in  his  ex- 
pression :  Katherine  quailed  a  little  before  it, 
but  did  not  know  that  she  was  afraid  of  him. 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  25 

"I  thought  he  would  be  pleased,"  she  said 
sullenly. 

"People  are  seldom  pleased  when  you 
break  their  crockery :  you  should  be  more 
careful."  She  did  not  answer  a  word.  He 
measured  her  with  his  eyes.  "  Why,  you  are 
growing  quite  tall,  Katherine,  how  old  are 
you— fifteen  % " 

"  I  am  fourteen."    He  looked  at  her  again. 

"Come  and  walk  round  the  garden,"  he 
said.  She  hesitated  and  did  not  move. 
"Come,"  he  repeated  with  a  little  masterful 
smile,  ua  walk  will  do  you  good." 

Reluctantly  she  went  forward  step  by  step, 
and  walked  beside  him  round  the  big  untidy 
garden,  under  the  beech  and  larch  trees,  beside 
the  marigold-bed  which  did  not  yet  show  a 
sign  of  life,  and  towards  the  little  clump  of 
primroses  that  only  she  knew  to  be  breaking 
into  bloom.  She  would  not  even  look  towards 
it  while  she  was  with  Mr.  Belcher,  she  felt  it 
would  be  cruel  to  betray  them  to  him :  and 
luckily  he  did  not  see  them. 


26  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"  I  should  make  something  of  this  garden 
if  the  place  were  mine,"  he  said  almost  to  him- 
self. 

"  Uncle  Robert  likes  it  as  it  is,"  Katherine 
answered  in  a  low  voice,  her  soul  full  of  oppo- 
sition to  everything  he  said.  They  walked  on 
again  for  a  minute  or  two  in  silence,  he  still 
looking  at  her  now  and  again  with  a  curious 
smile. 

"  Shall  I  ask  your  uncle  to  forgive  you  for 
breaking  the  bowl  ?  "  he  asked  mockingly. 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  she  answered,  the  tears 
coming  into  her  eyes  again. 

"If  I  were  you  I'd  take  care  not  to  offend 
him ;  he  has  a  good  bit  of  money  to  leave  be- 
hind, and  if  you  play  your  cards  well  it  may 
come  to  you  now."  He  said  it  with  a  meaning 
look  and  a  nod  of  his  head  that  for  some  un- 
known reason  made  her  hate  him. 


CHAPTER  II. 

During  the  next  three  years,  those  that 
followed  on  the  news  of  Richard  Morris's 
death,  Katherine  felt  herself  to  be  under  the 
dominion  not  only  of  her  Uncle  Robert  but 
of  Mr.  Belcher.  Mr.  Morris  appeared  to  grow 
fonder  of  her,  but  he  silently  controlled  every 
action  of  her  life— so  that  she  did  not  dare  to 
spend  a  single  hour  in  a  manner  of  which  he 
would  have  disapproved.  The  sense  of  his 
authority  directed  even  the  lonely  walks  in 
the  Eltham  Woods  which  Susan  Barnes  some- 
times allowed  her  to  take  on  summer  after- 
noons. She  never  dared  to  stay  among  the 
nut-trees  and  blackberry  bushes  to  day-dream 
or  wonder  about  the  future,  but  walked  on 
methodically  and  sedately,  so  that  she  might 

(27)    " 


28  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

not  fail  to  get  into  the  time  she  was  out  the 
right  amount  of  exercise.  Her  school  lessons 
went  on  regularly,  though  Mrs.  Barrett's 
pupils  decreased  in  number,  for  the  school- 
mistress meant  to  retire  in  a  year  or  two,  and 
had  lost  her  eagerness.  When  she  was  six- 
teen, Katherine  made  friends  with  Alice 
Irvine,  the  daughter  of  an  officer  quartered  at 
Woolwich,  a  pretty  girl,  who  went  to  Mrs. 
Barrett's  chiefly  to  fill  out  her  time,  for  she 
was  nineteen  and  supposed  to  have  finished 
her  education.  The  friendship  soon  came  to 
an  end,  for  Alice  Irvine  went  to  India  with 
her  father  and  the  solitary  break  in  the  mo- 
notony of  Katherine's  girlhood  ended.  Mr. 
Belcher  appeared  regularly  every  Saturday. 
She  understood  that  he  always  came  on  busi- 
ness, and  was  solicitor  to  some  Company  of 
which  her  uncle  was  chief  director,  and  they 
evidently  had  a,  great  deal  to  talk  over.  He 
seemed  to  manage  Mr.  Morris's  affairs,  and 
gained  an  ascendancy  over  him  till  he  almost 
ruled  the  house. 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  29 

On  the  day  she  was  seventeen  a  strange 
thing  happened.  She  had  hitherto  on  her 
birthday  had  a  cake  covered  with  white  sugar. 
It  was  severely  put  on  to  the  tea-table  by 
Susan  Barnes,  and  though  Katherine  was  al- 
lowed to  cut  it,  she  was  not  allowed  to  eat  it 
at  will — it  had  to  serve  the  household  for  the 
next  fortnight,  and  always  to  be  undertaken 
with  an  air  of  responsibility.  But  it  was  the 
yearly  recognition  of  her  childhood,  and 
Katherine  looked  forward  to  it.  This  time 
when  Susan  Barnes  asked  a  week  before  if 
she  was  to  make  Miss  Katherine's  cake,  Mr. 
Morris  looked  at  her  wonderingly. 

"Cake?"  he  said  severely;  " why," no, 
she'll  be  seventeen.  A  young  woman  !  What 
does  a  young  woman  want  with  cake  % "  Then 
when  Susan  had  left  the  room  he  turned  and 
looked  at  his  niece  as  if  he  were  considering 
some  momentous  question  concerning  her. 

"  You  are  very  tall,"  he  said  at  last,  "you 
have  your  mother's  blue  eyes  and  dark  hair. 
I  suppose  you're  pretty,"  he  added  grimly. 


30  A  FLASH  OP  SUMMER. 

"I  don't  know  what  I'm  going  to  do  with 
you ;  in  another  year  or  two  you  ought  to  be 
getting  a  husband." 

It  was  the  queerest  thing  to  say,  Katherine 
thought,  as  she  went  to  school.  It  opened  a 
vista  of  life  in  a  part  of  the  world  that  was 
not  Shooter's  Hill,  and  with  somebody  who 
was  not  Uncle  Robert.  When  her  birthday 
came  it  was  on  a  Saturday,  and  Mrs.  Barrett 
gave  her  a  copy  of  "Lalla  Rookh"  in  a  dark 
binding  with  gilt  edges  and  a  narrow  green 
ribbon  marker. 

"We  shall  separate  soon,  my  dear  Kather- 
ine," she  said  tremulously,  "but  you  have 
been  my  favourite  pupil,  and  I  shall  always 
remember  you.  I  shall  retire  in  another  year, 
but  perhaps  your  uncle  will  consider  that  your 
education  is  finished  even  before  that  period, 
and  wish  to  take  you  away." 

"I  hope  not,"  Katherine  answered.  "I 
should  be  so  sorry  to  leave  you."  And  she 
thought  how  dreary  it  would  be  to  live  morn- 
ing after  morning  without   passing    the  two 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  31 

roadways  she  had  looked  down  all  her  life. 
Still,  she  was  growing  older,  and  she  realised 
it,  even  while  she  stood  looking  at  her  school- 
mistress and  the  familiar  school- desks,  and 
thought  curiously  of  the  world  beyond  the 
soldiers  and  band,  on  the  one  side,  and  the 
moat  and  immovable  crane  on  the  other. 
There  were  times  when  a  strange  eagerness 
came  over  her,  so  that  she  felt  she  could  have 
run  along  the  great  Dover  Road,  over  the  hill 
and  past  the  Bull  through  Welling  and  Bex- 
ley,  and  on  and  on  till  she  saw  the  white  cliffs 
on  the  far-away  coast.  She  was  like  a  bird 
flapping  its  wings  before  it  dared  to  fly.  Some 
day,  she  felt,  without  knowing  that  she  did 
so,  they  would  bear  her  far  away. 

Mr.  Belcher  had  arrived  when  she  returned. 
She  wished  Uncle  Robert  had  been  alone,  and 
that  he  and  she  had  been  going  for  one  of  the 
old  long  walks  together  in  the  afternoon.  "  I 
think  he  would  have  been  kind  to  me,"  she 
thought. 

"  Seventeen,  I  understand,  Katherine,"  Mr. 


32  A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

Belcher  said.  "  Seventeen  is  always  consid- 
ered grown-up  for  a  young  lady.  I  have 
brought  you  a  present."  He  said  it  in  a  voice 
that  sounded  like  a  dominant  note  in  her  life, 
and  he  produced  a  brown  leather  case,  the  like 
of  which  she  had  never  seen  except  in  the 
shop  windows  at  Woolwich.  Her  hands 
trembled  as  she  pressed  the  spring  and  dis- 
closed a  little  gold  neck-chain,  from  which 
was  suspended  a  heart  covered  with  tur- 
quoises. 

"  Is  this  for  me?"  she  asked  with  a  won- 
dering smile.  "  Oh,  thank  you,  Mr.  Belcher. 
It  is  kind  of  you." 

"Mind  you  take  care  of  it,"  he  answered, 
looking  at  a  dimple  in  her  cheek.  "  I  don't 
think  the  snap  is  very  strong." 

"  I  have  a  present  for  you  too,  Katherine," 
Mr.  Morris  said,  knitting  his  shaggy  eyebrows 
together.  "  But  I  waited  till  Belcher  came  be- 
fore I  gave  it  to  you.  Here  it  is,  my  dear." 
Something  in  his  voice  made  Katherine's  heart 
bound,  while  a  sob  that  was  half  joy  rose  in 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  33 

her  throat.  Then  he  too  gave  her  a  case,  and 
in  it  was  a  little  gold  watch. 

"Perhaps  it  may  be  useful  to  you,"  he 
added  apologetically,  as  if  he  were  half 
ashamed  of  giving  her  anything  ornamental. 

"  Oh,  it  is  lovely  !  "  she  sighed,  full  of  joy- 
ful surprise.  She  borrowed  an  old  guard  of 
Susan's  and  put  it  round  her  neck,  and  tucked 
the  watch  into  her  waistband,  and  felt  that  the 
day  was  a  happy  one. 

She  wandered  about  the  garden  in  the 
afternoon  and  peered  over  the  fence  toward  the 
woods,  and  wished  she  could  scurry  away 
round  by  Severndroog  and  over  the  fields  and 
through  the  churchyard  to  Eltham.  Then  she 
looked  round  and  saw  Mr.  Belcher. 

"  We  are  to  go  for  a  walk,"  he  said. 

"  Is  Uncle  Robert  coming  too  ? " 

"No,"  he  answered  shortly,  " we  are  going 
alone.     Come,  I  saw  your  hat  in  the  hall." 

She  followed  him  meekly  into  the  house, 
not  daring  to  refuse.  He  reached  down  her 
hat  and  her  little  tweed  cloak  that  hung  be- 


34:  A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

neath  it ;  there  were  some  gloves  in  the 
pocket ;  and  she  walked  out  beside  him,  down 
the  pathway  and  through  the  gate,  and  on 
to  the  main  road.  He  hesitated  a  moment. 
"  We'll  go  over  the  hill,"  he  said,  and  she 
gave  a  sigh  of  relief ;  for  she  had  been  so 
afraid  he  would  go  to  the  woods.  They 
walked  on  in  silence  for  ten  minutes.  Every 
now  and  then  he  looked  at  her  in  a  curious, 
half-doubtful  manner.  When  he  spoke  it  al- 
most made  her  start. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  being  seven- 
teen % "  he  asked. 

She  thought  of  the  new  experiences  the 
day  had  brought  and  answered  with  a  little 
sigh,  "  I  think  it  is  very  nice." 

"  What  do  you  suppose  will  happen  to  you 
in  the  future  I " 

"I  cannot  tell,"  she  said,  looking  forward 
at  the  long  white  road  that  stretched  into 
the  distance.  Then,  just  as  they  were  pass- 
ing The  Bull,  he  asked  a  surprising  ques- 
tion— 


A  FLASH   OP  SUMMER.  35 

"  Do  you  think  you  would  like  to  go  and 
live  in  London  1 " 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered  doubtfully. 
"  There    are  so  many  people,   and  there  are 

no "    She  was  going  to  say  woods,  but  she 

would  not  remind  him  of  them  lest  he  should 
want  to  turn  down  the  narrow  pathway  on  the 
right  that  led  to  one  she  knew,  "—there  are 
no  walks." 

"  You  could  drive  in  the  park  or  go  to  the 
theatre.  Perhaps  some  day,  if  you  get  a  good 
husband do  you  think  you'd  like  a  hus- 
band, Katherine?" 

"  No,"  she  answered  shortly.  "  I  am  not 
old  enough  yet." 

His  steps  slackened  for  a  moment ;  he 
looked  at  the  road  ahead  and  hesitated. 

"We  won't  go  any  farther  this  way,"  he 
said  decisively,  and  turned  round  quickly. 
They  retraced  their  steps  till  they  passed  the 
Bull  again.  Just  a  few  yards  below  it,  turn- 
ing off  on  the  right,  was  a  road  overhung  by 
trees.     It  looked  still  and  deserted. 


36  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"  Where  does  this  lead  to  ? "  he  asked. 

"  It  is  Shrewsbury  Lane  ;  it  leads  to  Plum 
Lane.     But  it  is  getting  late,  and " 

"Plenty  of  time,"  he  answered;  "come 
along,"  and  Katherine  helplessly  followed. 
She  pulled  out  her  watch  and  turned  it  over 
and  looked  at  it,  thinking  she  was  unob- 
served. 

"  You'd  better  take  care  of  that  watch,"  he 
said;  "he  gave  a  good  deal  for  it.  I  was 
with  him  when  he  bought  it." 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  that,"  she  said;  "I 
was  thinking  that  it  was  very  kind  of  him  to 
give  it  me — it  was  very  kind  of  you  to  give 
me  the  chain,  Mr.  Belcher." 

"  Do  you  like  ornaments  ? " 

She  considered  for  a  moment. 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,"  she  said— and  they  went 
on  a  little  way  in  silence.  Then  she  spoke 
again.  "If  we  lived  in  London  we  should 
get  a  great  many  more  books  ;  but  I  should 
be  afraid  to  go  about  alone,  and  there  would 
be  no  places  to  sketch — I  had  some  lessons  at 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  37 

Mrs.  Barrett's,"  she  added  hurriedly,  "and 
the  country  is  so  lovely." 

"  You  could  walk  about  alone  if  you  were 
married,"  he  said,  and  looked  at  her  mean- 
ingly ;  but  she  answered  nothing. 

They  came  to  a  narrow  pathway  that 
turned  off  on  to  the  left  and  led  downwards 
through  an  undergrowth  of  brake  and  briar 
to  Woolwich  Common. 

"This  looks  like  a  quiet  way,"  he  said; 
"we'll  try  it." 

"It's  longer  round.  We  should  be  late  for 
Uncle  Kobert." 

"Plenty  of  time,"  he  said  again  decisively  : 
and  again  she  followed  him.  It  was  a  lonely 
path,  there  was  not  a  soul  within  sight  or 
sound.  She  lingered  a  little  way  behind  ;  but 
he  stopped  and  waited  for  her.  "Take  my 
arm,"  he  said.  She  shrank  back  in  visible  dis- 
may, but  he  held  it  out,  and  she  did  as  he  told 
her.  "  You'll  never  get  married  if  you  behave 
like  that,"  he  said,  "a  wife  always  takes  her 
husband's  arm  and  walks  beside  him." 


38  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

She  did  not  answer  a  word,  but  a  little 
fright  crept  into  her  heart  and  stayed  there 
all  that  day  and  put  a  mark  on  the  months 
that  followed. 

At  the  end  of  the  year  she  left  school.  Mrs. 
Barrett's  health  failed,  and  she  went  away  to 
live  with  a  sister  in  the  country :  so  the  win- 
dows of  the  house  down  the  road  were  closed, 
and  a  padlock  put  on  the  gate. 

This  was  at  the  beginning  of  the  winter. 
Katherine  was  growing  older  and  impatient ; 
her  uncle  was  rather  kinder  to  her,  perhaps, 
but  he  held  aloof  as  much  as  ever.  She  had 
sketched  nearly  every  point  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  read  all  the  books  in  the  house,  car- 
rying them  usually  to  the  steps  of  Severndroog 
Tower.  She  found  it  better  to  sit  there  in  the 
sunshine  safely  hidden  from  everything,  save 
the  crows  and  the  trees,  than  to  go  to  the  woods 
with  their  bare  twigs  and  soddened  pathways 
and  the  frightened  rabbits  that  scuttled  through 
the  underwood.  Mr.  Belcher  came  as  much  as 
ever,   and  his  manner  towards  her  was  dif- 


A   FLASH  OP  SUMMER.  39 

ferent.  He  did  not  talk  to  her  much,  but  he 
looked  at  her  a  good  deal,  and  there  was  some- 
thing in  his  expression  that  made  her  fear  him 
and  invent  excuses  for  hurrying  out  of  sight  as 
much  as  possible  on  the  Saturdays  he  spent  at 
the  White  House. 

Then  a  change  came. 

Susan  Barnes  fell  ill  and  kept  her  bed  for 
weeks,  while  Katherine  nursed  her,  and  gained, 
at  the  same  time,  some  knowledge  of  house- 
keeping. After  a  time  Susan  grew  better,  but 
she  would  never  be  good  for  anything  again, 
the  doctor  said  ;  and  she  pleaded  to  be  allowed 
to  go  to  her  own  people  at  Bridge  water  to  end 
her  days.  Then,  as  if  to  complicate  matters 
further,  the  owner  of  the  White  House  refused 
to  renew  Mr.  Morris's  lease,  and  Katherine 
knew  that  he  was  discussing  closely  with  Mr. 
Belcher  the  question  of  where  to  live  if  he  had  to 
seek  another  home.     He  was  growing  old  ;  the 

news  of  his  son' s  death  had  put  twenty  years 

• 
on  to  him  ;  the  journeys  to  and  fro  from  Lon- 
don tried  him  sorely,  his  silences  were  longer, 


40  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

his  instincts  seemed  to  develop  more  and  more 
strongly  in  the  direction  of  solitude.  Even  on 
his  walks  he  no  longer  asked  her  to  accompany 
him,  and,  stern  and  silent,  turned  away  from 
her  half-appealing  look  as  he  left  the  house 
and  went  on  his  way  alone.  She  tried  singing 
to  him  once  ;  music-lessons  had  been  included 
in  her  course  at  Mrs.  Barrett's,  and  the  old- 
fashioned  school-mistress  had  taken  care  that 
she  learnt  old  English  songs,  and  the  new- 
fashioned  teacher  had  seen  that  the  German 
ones  were  not  left  out.  She  had  the  fresh 
young  voice  of  a  thrush,  but  he  only  looked 
at  her  coldly  for  a  moment  and  said,  "Keep 
your  songs  for  when  I  am  out  of  doors  ;  I  don't 
care  for  music." 

"  He  is  a  hard  man,"  Susan  muttered,  "and 
no  one  could  ever  get  round  him— though  Mr. 
Belcher  seems  pretty  nigh  doing  it." 

" Susan,"  asked  Katherine,  "must  you  go 
away?  I  will  do  all  your  work  for  you,  and 
take  such  care  of  you  if  you  will  stay,  you 
dear  old  Susan  ;"  and  she  put  her  arms  round 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  41 

the  old  woman's  neck ;  but  Susan  did  not  re- 
spond very  kindly.  During  the  long  years 
spent  in  his  service  she  had  learnt  something 
of  her  master's  coldness  and  reserve. 

"I  am  going  to  my  own  people,  Miss  Kath- 
erine,"  she  said,  "I  don't  want  to  spend  all 
my  days  in  service." 

"But  you  have  been  all  my  days  with  me," 
the  girl  answered,  "don't  you  like  me?"  She 
only  said  "like"  and  felt  a  little  shy  even  of 
that. 

"Oh,  yes,  Miss  Katherine ;  I  like  you,  es- 
pecially since  you've  grown  older;  you  were 
very  tiresome  about  not  taking  care  of  your 
things  when  you  were  young.  But  I  want  to 
go  to  my  home — one's  own  is  one's  own  all  the 
world  over." 

The  one  little  pleasure  of  those  months, 
oddly  enough,  came  through  Mr.  Belcher.  It 
was  in  the  shape  of  a  bull  pup.  He  brought 
it  down  with  him  for  the  first  time  one  day 
late  in  October,  a  white  and  black  pugnacious 
thing,  with  a  queer  ugly  face  and  a  brisk  tail, 


42  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

and  a  loose,  wrinkled  skin  that  had  a  very 
little  body  inside  it.  It  was  called  "Dottel," 
and  took  to  Katherine  immediately,  and  con- 
soled her  for  Martyr's  absolute  indifference, 
for  the  old  black  retriever  cared  for  no  one 
but  his  master,  and  nothing  but  the  door-mat 
on  which  he  lay  from  morning  to  night.  She 
found  herself  watching  once  or  twice  for  Mr. 
Belcher's  coming,  simply  because  it  meant  that 
she  would  see  Dottel  pattering  beside  him, 
slow  and  heavy,  but  ready  to  snarl  and  snap 
on  the  least  provocation.  She  used  to  beguile 
him  down  the  garden  and  through  the  back 
gate  by  which  she  had  once  broken  the  flower- 
bowl,  on  to  the  main  road,  and  across  to  the 
post-office,  where  they  sold  chocolates,  and 
back  again,  round  the  corner  by  the  wall, 
and  along  the  Severndroog  road  and  through 
a  gate  into  a  brambly  untidy  field,  and  dis- 
appear with  him  through  the  trees  at  the  end 
till  she  came  to  the  tower  and  the  little  open 
space  around  it.  Then  she  would  sit  down 
with  Dottel  on   the   steps  and   talk  to  him, 


A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  43 

and  pull  up  his  skin  in  ruts  upon  his  body, 
and  tell  him  that  he  was  hideous — "a  dear 
dog,  but  very  hideous." 

Thus  came  an  end  to  many  things.  Quite 
suddenly  one  afternoon  in  midwinter,  as  the 
twilight  was  coming  on,  Mr.  Belcher  appeared, 
just  as  he  had  appeared  before  her  long  ago 
behind  the  laurel  bank. 

"  Oh,  that's  it,  is  it  ?  "  he  said,  with  his  odd 
smile.  "I  wondered  where  it  was  you  hid 
yourself  so  often.  It's  getting  late ;  come 
back."  He  gave  Dottel  a  little  kick  :  the  dog 
growled  and  showed  his  teeth  for  answer. 

"I  don't  want  to  go  back  just  yet,"  she 
said. 

"  It's  time,"  he  answered  curtly.  uCome, 
I've  something  to  say  to  you." 

With  the  habit  of  obedience  to  his  sex 
strong  upon  her,  she  rose  and  stood  before 
him  as  if  waiting  for  his  next  command. 

"Take  my  arm,"  he  said,  "it's  getting 
dark."  They  went  back  under  the  trees,  over 
the  brambly  field,  and  towards  the  gate ;  but, 


44  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

instead  of  opening  it,  he  stopped  and  leant  on 
it,  and  looked  at  her  triumphantly.  The  twi- 
light was  gathering  closer  and  closer  round 
them,  but  he  could  see  her  face  plainly — a 
girl's  face  with  grey-blue  eyes  and  a  mass  of 
dark  hair  coiled  tightly  round  her  head. 
"  She'll  be  a  good-looking  woman  some  day," 
he  thought.  "  I  believe  she's  as  tall  as  I  am 
now,"  and  he  mentally  measured  her  height. 

"  Let  me  see,"  he  said,  "  how  old  are  you, 
Katherine  S " 

"  Eighteen." 

"Time  for  that  husband  we  talked  about." 

"Please  don't  say  that,"  she  answered,  and 
her  hand  sought  the  latch  of  the  gate.  He 
firmly  lifted  it  off. 

"That  is  what  I  mean  to  talk  about,"  he 
answered.  "You  can't  go  on  living  here  for 
ever.  Do  you  think  you  would  like  to  be  mar- 
ried \ " 

"  I  never  think  about  it,  I  am  not  old 
enough." 

"Eighteen's  quite    old   enough.      A    man 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  45 

doesn't  want  to  marry  a  frump."  He  put  his 
face  nearer  to  hers.  "Give  me  a  kiss,"  he 
said. 

"  Oh,  don't!"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  little 
cry  that  was  half  terror  and  half  surprise. 
"  Please  let  me  go  back."  She  stooped  towards 
Dottel,  who  was  wandering  round  her  feet  and 
trying  one  uncomfortable  attitude  after  an- 
other. 

"  Nonsense  !  "  he  said,  with  another  laugh, 
as  if  her  resistance  were  part  of  a  game. 
" Don't  you  think  you'd  like  to  marry  me?" 
She  looked  up  as  if  she  thought  he  had  gone 
mad. 

"  Marry  you,  Mr.  Belcher?  Oh,  no  !  Why, 
you  are  too  old."  It  was  said  in  sheer  bewil- 
derment, and  without  any  offence  in  her  voice. 

"  Thirty-six,"  he  answered  ;  "  excellent  dif- 
ference— the  man  should  be  a  good  bit  older." 

Thirty-six  seemed  a  long  way  on  towards 
middle  age  to  Katherine,  who  remembered  him 
a  grown  man  ever  since  'she  was  a  little  girl. 
Moreover,  Mr.  Belcher,  though  he  was  moder- 


46  A   PLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

ately  tall,  was  a  little  inclined  to  stoutness  of 
figure,  which  added  to  his  years,  and  his  trim 
whiskers  and  manner  of  dressing  did  not  take 
away  from  them.  Katherine  was  silent  for  a 
moment.     Then  she  pleaded — 

"Do  let  me  go  home,  Mr.  Belcher.  Uncle 
Eobert  will  be  expecting  us. " 

"  He  knows  all  about  it.  Highly  approves  ; 
and  said  we'd  better  settle  it  up  at  once.  Do 
you  think  you'll  like  living  in  London  \ " 

"Uncle  Robert  knows  and  approves?  "  she 
said,  unbelievingly. 

"Yes,  of  course  he  does.  So  you'd  better 
give  me  that  kiss." 

She  shrank  back  with  dread.  An  expres- 
sion shot  from  his  eyes  that  showed  that  he 
would  reckon  with  her  by  and  by. 

"  Oh  !  very  well,"  he  said,  with  a  disagree- 
able laugh,  "if  you'd  rather  not.  You  will 
have  to  come  to  it,  and  you'll  find  it  much 
more  amusing  to  take  me  the  right  way  than 
to  take  me  the  wrong  one.  Come,  we'll  go 
back  :  then  you  can  ask  your  uncle.     I  should 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  47 

think  you  must  know  by  this  time  that  when 
he  has  made  up  his  mind  to  a  thing  he'll  carry 
it  through."  He  closed  the  gate  after  them  as 
they  went  on  to  the  Severndroog  road.  "  Per- 
haps it's  as  well  to  tell  you  at  once  that  it's  my 
method  also,  so  come  along  "  ;  and  with  a  jerk 
he  pulled  her  hand  through  his  arm.  "  I  shall 
take  you  to  the  theatre,  and  give  you  some 
pleasure  now  and  then  if  you  are  a  good 
girl,"  he  added  as  he  drew  her  reluctantly 
along.  It  was  not  five  minutes  to  the  house. 
As  they  reached  the  garden  he  pulled  up  and 
looked  at  her  with  an  air  of  proprietorship  ; 
while  Dottel,  waddling  on  in  front,  stopped 
as  if  he,  too,  had  something  to  do  with  the 
matter. 

"  Where  is  Uncle  Robert  % "  she  asked 
scornfully. 

"  Waiting  for  you — he  wants  to  give  us  his 
blessing.  Why,  Katherine,  you'll  be  Mrs.  Ed- 
ward Belcher,  and  live  in  Montague  Place,  and 
look  after  the  house  and  sit  at  the  head  of  the 
table.      Rather  different  from   Shooter's  Hill 


48  A  FLASH   OP  SUMMER. 

and  going  to  school  ?  You  ought  to  be  quite 
pleased." 

She  did  not  speak  a  word  till  they  reached 
the  house.     Then  she  turned  and  faced  him. 

"I  want  to  see  Uncle  Robert  alone,"  she 
said  haughtily.  And,  leaving  him  in  doubt 
whether  to  follow  her  or  not,  she  entered  the 
dining-room  and  shut  the  door.  Mr.  Morris 
was  sitting  over  the  fire. 

"  Uncle  Robert,"  she  asked  in  dismay,  the 
excitement  she  had  suppressed  in  the  inter- 
view that  had  just  taken  place  flashing  from 
her  eyes,  and  indignant  incredulity  making  it- 
self heard  in  her  voice,  "  you  don't  want  me  to 
marry  Mr.  Belcher,  do  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Morris  looked  up  at  her  for  a  moment 
in  silence. 

"Yes,  I  do,"  he  answered  firmly.  "  He 
will  make  you  a  good  husband  and  I  shall 
know  that  you  are  taken  care  of.  He  is  well 
off,  and " 

"  Oh,  but  I  can't,  indeed  !  "  she  cried,  clasp- 
ing her  hands.     "  It  would  be  dreadful." 


A   FLASH  OP  SUMMER.  49 

"  That  is  only  because  you  are  young,  my 
dear,"  lie  answered  kindly,  but  with  determi- 
nation that  sounded  like  a  decree,  "  and  don't 
know  what  is  best  for  you.  I  have  thought  it 
well  over,  and  the  thing  is  settled.  Belcher 
will  be  very  kind  to  you " 

"  But  why  can't  I  stay  with  you  ?  I  don't 
want  to  go  away." 

"I  am  going  away.  I  must,  for  the  lease 
of  this  house  is  up.  I  am  very  lonely  since 
my  son  died,"  he  added  in  a  lower  voice. 
"  Probably  I  shall  take  rooms  in  London  near 
a  club." 

"Let  me  stay  with  you  there,"  she  plead- 
ed, and  put  her  hand  on  his.  But  he  shook 
his  head. 

"I  want  to  be  alone,"  he  answered,  "and 
I  am  getting  old,  Katherine,  and  want  to  see 
you  settled.  I  have  done  the  best  I  can  for 
you,  and  have  told  Belcher  what  my  inten- 
tions are,  so  that  he'll  have  every  reason  to  be 
good  to  you.  Now  go  away,  my  dear,  and 
don't  be  foolish." 


50  A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

"I  can't  be  married  to  him,  uncle.  I  don't 
like  him." 

"You'll  like  him  by  and  by,  if  he's  good 
to  you." 

"  Let  me  stay  with  Susan " 

"  Nonsense  !  I  tell  you  the  thing  is  set- 
tled, we  know  what  is  best  for  you.  Now  go 
away,"  and  he  took  up  his  newspaper  again. 
She  went  out  of  the  room,  nearly  falling  over 
Martyr,  who  whined  and  moved  out  of  her 
way. 

"I  must  put  a  brick-bat  round  that  pocr 
old  brute's  neck  and  give  him  a  wet  bath,"  she 
heard  her  uncle  say,  "he's  only  a  misery  to 
himself  and  everyone  else." 

It  was  like  a  Fate-day  Katherine  thought, 
and  she  remembered  a  mystical  story  she  had 
read  the  year  before  in  which  lives  to  live  were 
dealt  out  to  the  people  and  there  was  no  es- 
cape for  them. 

Dottel  was  on  the  stairs  ;  he  got  up  un- 
easily as  she  passed,  went  up  a  step  or  two 
after  her,  then,  as  if  he  had  changed  his  mind, 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  51 

stopped  and  waddled  down  again,  and  went 
out  to  seek  his  master,  who  stood  by  the 
garden-door,  waiting  in  calm  certainty  till 
Katherine  had  given  over  her  foolish  struggles 
and  recognised  the  inevitable. 

"  Susan,"  Katherine  said,  creeping  up  to 
the  woman,  who  was  lying  in  the  dark  on  her 
bed,  "  are  you  better  ?    Can  I  talk  to  you  %  " 

"  Yes,  come  and  sit  down  side  of  me,  here, 
Miss  Katherine.  I'm  better."  Susan  raised 
her  pillows  and  turned  her  head  round  till 
Katherine  could  see  the  clear  unflinching  eyes 
looking  at  her  through  the  shadow. 

"  Susan,"  she  exclaimed,  as  if  she  felt  that 
her  news  would  bewilder  her  listener,  "they 
want  me  to  marry  Mr.  Belcher ;  me — me,  to 
marry " 

"  Well,  Miss,"  and  Susan  raised  her  head  a 
little  higher.  The  girl  sat  down  on  the  bed 
despairingly,  for  those  two  words  betrayed 
that  Susan  too  would  be  against  her :  so  that, 
breaking  down,  she  pleaded  her  own  cause 
badly. 


52  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"But,  Susan,  he  is  so  much  older — and  I 
am  so  young — and  I  don't  want  to  be  married, 
and  I  don't  like  him." 

"If  he  makes  you  a  good  husband,  you'll 
like  him  after  a  bit."  Oh,  those  terrible  words, 
"a  good  husband!"  There  was  something 
hopeless  in  the  sound  of  them. 

"But  I  can't,  Susan."  And  she  burst  into 
tears  and  put  her  face  down  on  the  bedclothes 
that  covered  the  woman's  chest.  "I  don't 
want  to  be  married.  I  don't  want  anything 
different,  and  I  can't  bear  him,"  she  sobbed. 
"Uncle  Robert  says  I  must,  and  Mr.  Belch- 
er  " 

Susan  raised  herself  still  a  little  more  and 
tried  to  hold  her. 

"Look  here,  Miss  Katherine,"  she  said, 
"your  uncle  knows  what's  best,  and  he's 
made  up  his  mind,  and  you'll  have  to  do  it. 
Men's  master,  and  we've  got  to  give  way  to 
them.  You'll  find  that  out  all  through  life, 
and  you  must  just  make  the  best  of  it.  If 
he  gives  you  a  good   home  and  is  kind   to 


A  FLASH  OP  SUMMER.  53 

you,  you'll  get  on  all  right.  Just  don't  make 
a  fuss  about  it,"  she  said  kindly,  drawing  her 
arm  tighter  round  the  slim  shoulders. 

"But  I  hate  Mr.  Belcher,"  Katherine  whis- 
pered with  a  shudder. 

"And  I  don't  like  him,"  Susan  said,  as  if 
the  words  were  dragged  from  her.  "  Never 
did.  I  expect  he's  a  hard  man  ;  but,"  she 
went  on  doggedly,  "  men  are  hard — that's 
what  women  have  to  find  out,  and  the 
wisest  just  says  nothing  and  makes  the 
best  of  them.  You  take  my  advice,  Miss 
Katherine,  and  submit.  You'll  feel  better 
when  you're  settled  down  in  a  home  of  your 
own." 

"  I  like  this  home." 

"This  isn't  going  to  be  one  for  any  of  us 
much  longer.  The  lease  is  up,  the  master's 
getting  older,  and  I  believe  he  wants  to  make 
a  change  in  his  life  ;  and  me — I'm  going  home 
to  Bridgwater,  and  they're  going  to  put  Mar- 
tyr into  the  river  before  we  go.  It's  all  set 
out  by  fate" — Katherine  raised  her  head  with 


54  A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

a    jerk,    remembering    the    story-book — "and 
you'll  have  to  submit." 

In  six  weeks'  time  she  was  married  to  Mr. 
Belcher. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Katherine  was  too  much  of  a  girl  to  be  a 
companion  to  her  husband,  too  unsophisti- 
cated and  inexperienced  to  hold  a  man  who 
was  not  even  in  love  with  her.  He  had  noth- 
ing to  say  to  her  nor  she  to  him.  Even  their 
honeymoon,  though  for  the  first  few  days  he 
watched  her  with  a  half -curious  amusement, 
bored  him  :  before  ten  days  were  over  he  had 
discovered  a  secret  amusement  in  making  her 
wince  under  those  little  gibes  that  he  knew 
would  sooner  or  later  have  a  brutal  develop- 
ment. They  went  to  Windermere  and  stayed 
at  the  hotel  near  the  station.  The  snow  still 
clung  high  and  white  to  the  mountains,  but 
the  trees  were  sprinkled  with  early  green,  and 
the  spring  flowers  were    hiding    among    the 

(66) 


56  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

tangle  of  the  woods  and  hedges.  The  beauty 
of  the  scenery  took  Katherine  altogether  by 
surprise.  When  it  first  burst  upon  her  in  the 
railway-carriage  between  Oxenholm  and  Win- 
dermere, the  day  after  her  marriage,  she  gave 
a  cry  of  joy  and  bewilderment. 

"  Oh,  it  is  lovely,  it  is  wonderful !  "  she 
said.  Her  manner  pleased  Mr.  Belcher ;  he 
was  almost  tender  as  they  stood  an  hour  or 
two  later,  by  the  lake's  side,  and  waited  for 
more  remarks  akin  to  that  one  in  the  train. 
But  Katherine  was  not  in  the  habit  of  talking 
much,  and,  moreover,  had  never  been  on  an 
easy  footing  with  Mr.  Belcher,  nor,  indeed, 
with  anyone  in  her  whole  life  except,  perhaps, 
her  school  friend  Alice  Irvine.  She  looked  up 
at  the  great  hills  and  felt  the  beauty  of  the 
whole  place  wrap  round  and  round  her  like  a 
dream  of  which  she  was  in  the  midst ;  but,  like 
a  dreamer,  she  had  no  words  to  say  to  the  liv- 
ing man  beside  her.  They  took  long  walks 
almost  in  silence,  while  he  thought  of  matters 
wholly  unconnected    with    his  surroundings, 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  57 

and  she  felt  the  world  stretch  itself  out  before 
her  eyes  and  realised  how  little  she  knew  con- 
cerning it.  Sometimes  during  that  first  week 
Mr.  Belcher  used  to  look  at  her  half  con- 
temptuously as  she  sat  back  in  the  boat  which 
the  sturdy  North-countrymen  rowed  across 
the  lake,  or  along  the  edge  beneath  the 
shadow  of  the  mountains,  and  wonder  how  he 
was  to  get  through  the  next  three  weeks 
allowed  to  his  honeymoon,  with  a  schoolgirl 
in  a  serge  frock  and  a  sailor  hat.  It  bored  him 
after  a  time  even  to  worry  her. 

Then,  luckily,  they  made  acquaintance 
with  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Oswell,  who  were  staying 
at  the  hotel.  He  was  a  barrister  of  forty,  dark 
and  slim  and  leisurely,  with  kind  grey  eyes 
that  gave  Katherine  a  sense  of  safety  when  she 
looked  at  them.  In  some  undefined  manner  it 
floated  through  her  mind  that  if  Mr.  Belcher 
were  cruel,  Mr.  Oswell  would  protect  her.  He 
seemed  to  be  fond  of  his  wife.  Katherine 
used  to  see  them  walking  up  and  down  to- 
gether in  front  of  the  hotel,  after  dinner,  evp 


58  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

dently  engrossed  in  each  other's  conversation. 
Sometimes  she  heard  them  laughing  as  if  they 
were  amused  ;  or  if  they  were  silent  it  was  the 
silence  of  two  people  who  were  companions. 
"  I  can  feel  that  they  are  married,"  Katherine 
thought.  "  They  are  like  the  husband  and 
wife  one  reads  about :  they  are  very  different 
from  us."  She  could  not  imagine  that  a  time 
would  ever  come  when  she  and  Mr.  Belcher 
would  walk  up  and  down  and  talk  in  a  low 
voice,  and  be  content  together. 

At  first  sight  Mrs.  Oswell  was  hardly  equal 
to  her  husband  ;  she  was  a  tall,  handsome 
woman,  with  a  good  many  rings  on  her  fingers, 
and  clothes  too  smart  for  a  country  hotel. 
She  was  about  two  or  three  and  thirty,  per- 
haps ;  and  had  a  manner  that  was  a  little 
masterful,  but  it  gave  way  immediately  before 
her  husband's  quiet  one.  She  took  pains  to 
be  agreeable  to  Mr.  Belcher,  chiefly  because 
her  husband  had  taken  a  violent  dislike  to 
him,  u  which  is  thoroughly  immoral  of  you, 
Fred,"  she  remarked.     "  Mr.  Belcher  is  a  so- 


A   FLASH   OP  SUMMER.  59 

licitor,  and  rich  ;  I  can  see  it  in  the  cut  of  his 
frock-coat  at  the  table- d'hote,  and  you  are  the 
inevitable  barrister.  The  rest  need  not  be  ex- 
plained." 

"  I  hate  the  look  of  him,  and  I  am  certain 
that  he  bullies  that  unlucky  girl  he  has 
married.  I  saw  a  horrible  smile  on  his  face 
yesterday,  when  he  had  evidently  said  some- 
thing that  made  her  miserable." 

"  Probably  there's  something  to  be  said  on 
both  sides,"  Mrs.  Oswell  answered.  "  He  can 
be  polite  if  it  is  expected  of  him  :  she  expects 
him  to  behave  like  a  tyrant,  so  he  dues." 

The  Oswells  and  the  Belchers  had  a  little 
square  table  to  themselves  that  night.  Mrs. 
Oswell,  perhaps  on  purpose,  informed  Mr. 
Belcher  in  the  intimate  manner  of  people  who 
have  been  together  three  days  on  board  ship 
or  a  week  in  the  same  hotel,  how  many 
presents  her  husband  made  her,  and  how  ter- 
ribly she  bullied  him,  though  she  humoured 
him  sometimes. 

"Do  you  make  your  wife  many  presents, 


60  A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

Mr.  Belcher?"  she  asked.  "You  look  like  a 
generous  man." 

"I  should  make  a  wife  like  you  a  great 
many,"  he  answered,  with  a  smile  that  was 
meant  to  be  fascinating. 

"  Perhaps  she  does  not  humour  you 
enough.  Mrs.  Belcher,"  she  went  on,  "al- 
ways humour  men  ;  it  never  does  to  be  too 
strict  with  them."  Katherine,  who  felt  that 
Mrs.  Oswell  was  a  good-natured  but  rather 
vulgar  person,  merely  smiled  across  her  soup. 

"I  don't  think  I  shall  find  my  wife  too 
strict,"  Mr.  Belcher  said  significantly. 

"Beast!"  thought  Mr.  Oswell.  "I'll  bet 
that  girl  runs  away  from  him  or  breaks  her 
heart  before  she  is  five  years  older."  Then 
there  followed  a  conversation  that  Katherine 
was  to  remember  all  her  life,  for  every  word 
seemed  to  burn  itself  upon  her  brain  as 
though  it  were  a  portion  of  her  history  ;  and 
yet  the  subject  seemed  a  trivial  one.  "When 
you  have  been  married  as  long  as  I  have,"  Mr. 
Oswell   said  to  Mr.   Belcher,    trying  to  make 


A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  01 

things  easier  for  her,  "you  won't  be  so  con- 
fident. Still,  I  manage  to  get  my  own  way 
sometimes — eh,  Bee?  Do  you  remember 
when  you  had  set  your  heart  on  going  to 
Ventnor,  and  I  had  set  mine  on  a  sea  voy- 
age \ " 

' '  You  were  a  brute, "  she  laughed.  *  *  He  was 
indeed,  Mrs.  Belcher.  There  are  some  horrid 
boats  that  go  to  the  Mediterranean  every  week. 
Will  you  believe  that  he  beguiled  me  to  South- 
ampton under  the  impression  that  I  was  go- 
ing to  the  Isle  of  Wight,  and  calmly  took  me 
on  board  one  of  them,  and  I  sat  quite  still  and 
innocent,  to  discover  presently  that  we  were  on 
our  way  to  Gibraltar  % " 

"  Excellent  experience  for  you,  I  should 
think,"  Mr.  Belcher  said,  trying  to  be  pleas- 
antly sarcastic. 

"You  ought  to  take  your  wife  that  trip 
some  day,"  Mr.  Oswell  went  on;  "they  are 
capital  boats,  picturesque  route,  and  not  at  all 
expensive." 

"  And    they  go    to   the    Mediterranean  ? " 


02  A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

asked  Katherine.  It  sounded  like  the  other 
side  of  the  world. 

"  They  go  round  by  Gibraltar,"  Mr.  Oswell 
answered,  glad  to  talk  to  her.  "  And  there 
you  get  your  first  experience  of  the  South. 
The  scent  of  the  orange-trees  almost  choked 
me ;  and  the  pepper-trees — long,  drooping 
pink  bloom  they  have — were  simply  wonder- 
ful." 

"And  such  handsome  men,"  Mrs.  Oswell 
put  in. 

"Yes,  go  on,"  Katherine  said,  not  even 
hearing  her.  "I  would  give  anything  to  go 
abroad." 

"Then  make  your  husband  take  you; 
don't  give  him  any  peace  till  he  does,"  Mr.  Os- 
well continued.  "  It's  really  an  excellent 
thing  to  do,"  he  added,  turning  again  to  Mr. 
Belcher.  "From  Gibraltar — you  only  stay 
there  a  few  hours — you  get  on  to  Genoa " 

"To  Genoa,"  Katherine  repeated  longingly. 

— "Skirting  the  shore— seeing  Spain  and 
Marseilles  as  you  go  by,   superb  olive-woods 


A   PLASH   OF  SUMMER.  fi3 

and  orange-trees  and  palms — mountains  in  the 
background,  vastly  different  from  these  hills, 
I  can  tell  you.  It  is  a  wonderful  thing  to  go 
to  Italy  for  the  first  time.  I  like  the  small 
places  best  myself — little  places  not  overdone 
with  English  people.  There  are  a  few  of  them 
along  the  coast  still." 

"He  ought  to  live  in  a  tomb,"  Mrs.  Os- 
well  said,  laughing;  "he  delights  in  being 
buried.  Naples  and  Genoa  were  all  very  well, 
and  we  picked  up  all  sorts  of  pretty  things  at 
the  shops,  but  I  couldn't  bear  those  dull  little 
places  where  the  people  lived  on  macaroni 
and  looked  at  the  sea  and  the  mountains 
all  day,  or  went  to  Mass  in  the  morning,  and 
spent  their  evenings  around  dim  little  lamps 
that  didn't  even  attract  the  mosquitoes.  I 
don't  care  for  '  dear,  dear  abroad ' ;  do  you, 
Mr.  Belcher  % " 

"  I  generally  stick  to  England,"  he  an- 
swered. 

"That's  what  I  like,"  said  Mrs.  Oswell  ; 
"give  me  Scarborough,  or  even  Brighton,  and 


64  A    FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

a  good  spin  along  the  King's  Road  behind  a 
pair  of  horses.  What  do  you  say,  Mrs. 
Belcher?" 

But  Katherine  was  feeding  Dottel,  who  had 
accompanied  them  on  their  honeymoon,  and 
made  no  answer.  Perhaps  Dottel  was  the  only 
compensating  element  in  her  marriage.  He 
was  growing  bigger  though  not  gentler,  and 
the  developing  savageness  of  his  nature  was 
a  grim  enjoyment  to  his  master,  who  liked  to 
see  people  shrink  away  from  him  and  draw  up 
their  toes  under  them. 

"  Edward,"  she  asked  her  husband  timidly 
as  they  stood  by  the  door  together  for  a  few 
minutes  while  the  Oswells  took  their  nightly 
walk  up  and  down,  "  do  you  like  Mrs.  Os- 
well  ? " 

"Yes,"  he  said  with  the  leisurely  air  of 
repletion  that  always  beset  him  after  a  meal, 
"  she  is  the  sort  of  woman  I  do  like." 

"  She  is  very  good-natured,"  Katherine  said 
gently,  ashamed  of  not  liking  her  better ; 
"  but  I  think  she  is  rather  vulgar." 


A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  ,;;, 

"  Oh,  nonsense!  she  has  plenty  of*  go. 
Men  like  lively  women  with  lots  to  say  for 
themselves." 

Mr.  Oswell  came  np  the  steps. 

"  Would  you  care  for  a  game  of  billiards  ? " 
he  asked,  while  his  wife  put  out  her  hand  to- 
wards Katherine. 

"  Come  for  a  little  stroll,"  she  said,  "and 
let  our  husbands  pursue  their  wicked  ways 
together.'1 

Katherine  descended  the  steps  gratefully : 
a  ttte-a-tete  with  one  of  her  own  sex  was  virtu- 
ally a  new  experience.  Mrs.  Oswell  took  her 
arm  and  looked  at  the  pale,  anxious  face  ;  she 
could  see  its  eager,  almost  sad,  expression  even 
in  the  twilight ;  and  her  heart  went  out  to  the 
slim  girl.  "  It's  an  excellent  thing  to  shunt 
our  men  sometimes.  They  like  us  better  when 
they  return,"  she  said,  trying  to  be  lively. 
"  Don't  you  think  so  ? " 

"  I  haven't  had  much  experience  of  shunt- 
ing them  yet,"  Katherine  answered  with  a 
laugh,  that  was  almost  joyous.     Mrs.  Oswell, 


66  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

even  though  she  were  vulgar,  made  her  feel 
light-hearted,  and  her  manner  was  distinctly 
kindly  ;  besides,  it  was  a  relief  to  be  free 
of  Mr.  Belcher,  even  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour. 

"  Tell  me,  how  long  have  you  been  Ma- 
dame 1 "  Mrs.  Oswell  asked  confidentially. 
"  You  look  as  if  it  had  been  the  day  before 
yesterday." 

"It  was  nearly  a  fortnight  ago." 

"  And  was  he  a  widower  ? " 

"Oh,  no!    Why?" 

"He  looks  it.  I  am  glad  he  wasn't,  can't 
torment  you  with  the  virtues  of  his  dear  de- 
parted— probably  he'll  find  some  other  way," 
she  thought.  "Why  did  you  marry  him? 
Were  you  very  much  in  love  ? " 

"I  married  him,"  Katherine  answered  re- 
luctantly, "because  my  Uncle  Robert  wished 
it,  I  think.  I  didn't  want  to  be  married  so 
soon." 

"Never  mind,  it's  a  good  thing  over. 
There's  too  much  difference  in  your  ages,  of 


A  PLASH  OF  SUMMER.  67 

course,  but  he'll  be  all  right  if  you  manage 
him  properly.     Don't  let  him  bully  you." 

u  Oh,  no,"  Katherine  said,  rather  distantly, 
for  she  did  not  want  to  discuss  her  marriage 
with  a  stranger. 

"I  always  feel  so  much  for  men,"  Mrs.  Os- 
well  went  on,  "  we  know  so  little  about  them. 
I  feel  convinced  that  you  know  very  little  of 
Mr.  Belcher.  A  man  of  his  age  may  have  had 
all  sorts  of  troubles." 

"  Trouble?" 

"Oh,  yes,  you  don't  know  how  badly  he 
was  jilted  when  he  was  twenty- four,  or  that  he 
didn'  t  lose  a  lot  of  money  later  on— or  that  he 
hasn't  been  bothered  to  death  by  relations,  or 
suffered  horrible  physical  pain  and  said  noth- 
ing about  it.  It  never  seems  to  occur  to  wom- 
en how  much  history  a  man  may  have  on  the 
quiet.  A  woman's  career  is  generally  known 
to  all  her  intimate  friends,  and  handed  on  to 
her  acquaintance  ;  a  man's,  as  a  rule,  is  only 
known  to  himself — and  perhaps  to  one  woman 
who  doesn't  appear." 


68  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"I  wonder  if  he  has  suffered  things " 

Katherine  said,  looking  out  towards  the  lake, 
and  feeling,  as  she  did  so,  that  Mrs.  Oswell 
was  pushing  open  the  gate  of  life  a  little 
wider. 

"Disagreeable  people  generally  have  ;  and 
you  know,  my  dear,  he  does  look  disagreeable 
sometimes.  I  say  it  to  reconcile  you  to  it.  I 
always  feel  as  if  they  were  distributing  round 
the  knocks  they  have  received  themselves. 
But  don't  let  him  bully  you.  He's  the  sort 
of  man  who  will  if  he  can.  Look  very  good- 
tempered,  and  laugh  at  him  when  he  begins." 

"  You  always  seem  to  be  laughing,  Mrs. 
Oswell." 

u  It's  such  a  safeguard  against  crying.  You 
must  let  me  come  and  see  you  when  you're 
in  town  ;  I  like  you,"  she  added  suddenly. 
"I  wonder  what  our  husbands  are  doing— I 
hope  Mr.  Belcher  will  like  Fred.  Now,  that 
man,  Mrs.  Belcher,  is  simply  an  angel ;  quali- 
fied, I  am  thankful  to  say,  with  a  few  of  the 
weaknesses  which  apparently  get  worn  out  in 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  69 

this  charming  world,  so  that  there  are  none 
left  for  a  future  one." 

"  Is  it  a  charming  world  \ "  Katherine 
asked,  looking  up  at  her  with  curiosity. 

"  Delightful.  The  people  in  it  are  so  nice, 
occasionally  bores,  but  kind,  good  creatures 
most  of  them,  let  that  comfort  you  to  reflect 
upon  :  it  is  the  experience  of  someone  a  good 
deal  older  than  yourself.  There  are  excep- 
tions, of  course  ;  but  it  is  a  wise  thing  not  to 
believe  it,  or  else  to  think  yourself  the  excep- 
tion, and  then  you  get  along  all  right." 

"  I  think,"  said  Katherine,  after  a  mo- 
ment's pause,  "  you  must  be  very  happy." 

"  Yes,  I'm  very  happy,"  Mrs.  Oswell  an- 
swered quickly.  "  I'm  a  woman,  and  married 
to  the  man  I  like  best.  I  am  strong  and 
healthy  and  well,  and  live  in  a  beautiful 
world,  believing  that  the  people  in  it  mean 
well  towards  me  and  each  other,  and  that  if 
things  go  wrong  it  is  merely  an  accident.  And 
I  have  the  art  of  being  amused." 

u  Yes  ;    and   you   are  not    afraid  of — any- 


70  A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

thing,"  Katherine  said,  afraid  of  betraying 
too  much. 

"No,  dear,  of  nothing,"  and  Mrs.  Oswell 
gave  her  companion's  arm  a  sympathetic 
pinch.  "My  husband  is  an  excellent  com- 
panion, and  has  never  been  disagreeable  for 
a  minute.  Of  course,  I  pretend  he  has  ;  I 
wouldn't  let  him  know  that  he  possessed  the 
ghost  of  a  virtue  for  the  world,  he'd  be 
ashamed  of  it  and  try  to  live  it  down." 

"  I'm  glad  you  said  that  about  the  world," 
Katherine  said,  not  heeding  the  latter  part 
of  Mrs.  Oswell's  speech.  "It  makes  me  feel 
happier." 

"  Happiness  is  so  often  merely  the  result 
of  one's  own  way  of  looking  at  things,"  Mrs. 
Oswell  answered,  while  she  thought  to  herself, 
"but  if  you  find  a  way  of  looking  at  Mr. 
Belcher  and  getting  any  happiness  out  of  it  I 
shall  be  surprised." 

The  Oswells  went  on  to  Ambleside  the 
next  morning.  Mrs.  Oswell  took  her  place 
on  the  top  of  the  coach  in  high  spirits,  and 


A  FLASH  OP  SUMMER.  71 

waved  her  hand  to  Katherine  as  they  drove 
away. 

"  A  nice  woman,  Mrs.  Oswell,"  Belcher  re- 
peated to  his  wife,  "the  sort  of  woman  I  like. 
I  wish  you  would  learn  to  be  lively,  Kather- 
ine." She  looked  round  at  him  with  a  smile 
that  came  and  went  quickly,  like  a  flash  of 
sunshine  on  still  water. 

"Til  try  to  be,"  she  said  as  they  walked 
on.  "  You  frighten  me,  sometimes,"  she  went 
on  timidly,  "but  I  want  to  be  happy  and  to 
make  you  so  if  I  can — at  any  rate  to  please 
you,"  she  added,  for  it  struck  her  that  it 
would  be  rather  hopeless  to  try  and  make 
so  formidable  a  person  as  Mr.  Belcher 
happy. 

"  I  shall  let  you  know  if  you  don't  please 
me,"  he  said,  with  a  sardonic  smile.  She 
looked  at  him  and  hesitated  before  she  found 
courage  to  put  the  question  that  came  to  her 
lips  : 

"  Why  did  you  marry  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

"I  thought  I  might  as  well,   there  wasn't 


72  A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

anyone  else  to  do  it,  was  there?"  lie  said 
mockingly. 

"No."  They  walked  along  the  road  in 
silence  for  a  minute  or  two.  Then  she  looked 
up  at  him  as  if  she  were  speaking  aloud  her 
thoughts. 

"  I've  been  thinking  about  it  all  night,"  she 
said  gently.  "  We  are  married  and  have  to  be 
together  all  our  lives  ;  but  I  feel  as  if  I  were 
in  your  way.  I  don't  think  you  like  me  very 
much." 

"  Or  that  you  like  me  very  much  ? " 

"  No,"  she  answered,  raising  her  blue  eyes 
truthfully  to  his,  and  speaking  reluctantly,  "  I 
don't  like  you  much,  though  I  feel  that  I  am 
bound  to  you  and  cannot  get  away.  I  am  too 
much  afraid  of  you— but  I  want  to  like  you. 
I  wish  we  could  be  friends  and  companions 
like  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Oswell." 

"  Well,  you  see  you  are  not  Mrs.  Oswell, 
and  I'm  not  Mr.  Oswell,  and  that  makes  a 
difference.  I'm  afraid  I  can't  talk  sentiment, 
Katherine  ;  perhaps  I  shall  when  you  are  ten 


A   FLASH  OF   SUMMER.  73 

years  older,  or  someone  else  will  for  me. 
Meanwhile,  here  we  are  at  the  hotel.  You 
had  better  go  and  walk  about  in  the  garden— I 
have  some  letters  to  answer." 

"I'll  go  and  see  Dottel,"  she  said,  with  a 
choke  in  her  voice. 

" Nuisance  a  schoolgirl  is!  "  he  said  to  him- 
self. "  She  hasn't  any  flick.  If  she'd  told  me 
to  go  and  be  d d  I  should  have  liked  her." 

Dottel  was  safely  chained  up  in  the  yard, 
for  he  was  a  visitor  not  wholly  appreciated  by 
the  hotel  proprietor.  She  unfastened  him  and 
took  him  with  her  up  a  little  pathway  to  a 
wooded  knoll  behind  the  hotel.  The  buds 
were  showing  themselves  on  the  brown  trees, 
and  there  were  little  clumps  of  primroses  and 
violets  in  the  underwood.  She  remembered 
the  primroses  she  had  tried  to  prevent  Mr. 
Belcher  from  seeing  in  the  garden  at  Shooter's 
Hill  long  ago,  feeling  that  it  would  be  sacri- 
lege for  his  eyes  to  rest  upon  them  ;  and  she 
thought  of  Uncle  Robert,  who  had  gone  by 
this  time  to  some  rooms  in  Bloom sbury  ;  and 


74  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

of  Susan  Barnes  away  in  Somersetshire  with 
her  own  people  ;  and  of  Martyr.  Poor  stupid 
Martyr  !  He  was  lying  deep  in  the  muddy 
Thames  half-way  between  the  Old  Swan  Pier 
and  North  Woolwich.  She  remembered  the 
day  when  for  the  last  time  he  had  dragged 
himself  down  the  garden,  and  with  half-blind 
eyes,  and  feebly  wagging  tail,  followed  her 
uncle  and  Mr.  Belcher  to  Woolwich.  They 
carried  with  them  two  bricks  and  some  string, 
and  they  had  to  keep  looking  back  and  call- 
ing Martyr  to  prevent  him  from  turning  home 
again.  Mr.  Belcher  insisted  on  telling  her,  the 
next  time  he  came,  how  they  had  taken  a  lit- 
tle boat,  and  rowed  out  towards  North  Wool- 
wich ;  and  then  they  had  tied  the  brickbat 
round  Martyr's  neck,  put  his  head  in  a  bag 
and,  midway  across  the  river,  lifted  him  over 
the  side  of  the  boat.  He  seemed  to  take  a 
pleasure  in  her  tears,  and  went  on  with  a  ma- 
licious laugh  that  tortured  her  and  made  her 
angry  even  now  while  she  remembered  it.  She 
put  her  arms  round  a  tree-trunk  and  drew  up 


A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  75 

closer  to  it,  and  told  herself  with  strange  un- 
belief as  though  she  doubted  if  it  could  be 
true — that  she  was  married  to  Mr.  Belcher,  and 
had  to  spend  all  the  years  of  her  life  with 
him. 

Then  she  looked  at  the  blue  lake  beneath 
and  the  great  hills  beyond,  and  was  comforted. 
The  sunshine  was  sparkling  on  the  water  and 
lighting  up  the  streaks  of  snow  on  the  moun- 
tain-tops. "  How  beautiful  it  is,"  she  said  to 
herself ;  u  the  whole  world  seems  to  be  beauti- 
ful," and  she  remembered  Mr.  Oswell's  account 
of  his  travels  and  her  talk  afterwards  with  Mrs. 
Oswell.  "I  should  like  to  walk  all  over  it 
— alone.  Perhaps  some  day  when  I  am  older 
Edward  will  be  different  and  take  me  to  Italy, 
only,"  and  the  tears  rushed  into  her  eyes,  "  I 
should  like  so  much  better  to  go  alone." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"That's  over,"  Mr.  Belcher  said  as  they 
took  their  places  in  the  train  at  Windermere. 
"Rather  waste  of  time — don't  you  think  so, 
Katherine  ? — going  on  a  honeymoon,  eh !  " 

"  I  suppose  people  always  go  away  when 
they  are  married  ? " 

"  Just  as  they  do  a  great  many  other  stupid 
things.  Perhaps  we  shall  get  on  a  little  better 
when  we  don't  get  quite  so  much  of  each 
other.  I  think  marriage  is  rather  a  mistake, 
don't  you?" 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  gathered 
courage  to  answer. 

"  Sometimes  I  think  life  is  rather  a  mis- 
take ;  but  perhaps  that  is  because  I  want  so 
many  things." 

(T6)  « 


A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  77 

"  What  more  do  you  want  than  what  you 
have  got  % " 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said  with  a  puzzled 
look. 

"  That's  just  it — you  don't  know." 

u  Sometimes  I  feel  as  if  I  were  not  even  in- 
side the  world,  but  only  on  the  edge  of  it,"  she 
answered,  forgetting  for  the  moment  that  she 
was  talking  to  Mr.  Belcher,  "and  not  inside 
life  but  only  in  a  dream  of  it." 

"Been  reading  novels?"  he  asked  with  a 
little  sneer. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  and  put  out  her  hand 
and  touched  his  for  a  moment.  "  Don't 
laugh  at  me,  Edward,  and  let  me  tell  you 
things,  being  married  makes  me  feel  that  I  be- 
long to  you.     I  do  so  want  you  to— to " 

"All  in  good  time,"  he  said,  and  giving  her 
finger  a  not  unfriendly  shake,  took  up  his 
paper.  She  sat  and  looked  out  of  window  for 
an  hour  or  two,  and  wondered  what  the  house 
in  Montague  Place  would  be  like.  After  all, 
she  could  not  help  the  instincts  of  her  sex,  and 


78  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

she  was  almost  elated,  for  was  she  not  going  to 
live  in  London  a  married  woman  and  be  the 
mistress  of  a  house  ?  She  would  sit  at  the  head 
of  the  table  and  order  the  dinner  every  day— 
at  least,  she  supposed  so  ;  she  determined  that 
everything  should  be  very  punctual  and 
dainty.  She  wondered  what  the  house  was 
like  ;  it  would  be  easy  to  make  the  rooms  look 
pretty ;  and  she  indulged  in  some  visions  of 
elementary  decorations  such  as  Mrs.  Barrett 
had  delighted  in  and  her  uncle  had  looked 
upon  with  disapproval. 

The  day  was  closing  in  when  they  arrived, 
and  the  house  looked  black  and  grim  in  the 
deepening  twilight.  Her  heart  beat  quickly, 
and  she  felt  as  if  she  were  treading  the  future 
when  she  entered  the  doorway.  Two  servants 
were  waiting  in  the  hall,  a  sharp-faced  old  one 
who  had  been  with  Mr.  Belcher's  mother,  and 
a  young  one  who  was  evidently  kept  in  sub- 
jection under  her. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  ma'am,"  the  old  one 
said.      "I  am   Gibson,   at  your  service,    I'm 


A  FLASH   OF   SUMMER.  79 

sure  ;  and  this  is  Harriet,"  nudging  the  young 
one,  "  and  if  she  has  faults  she'll  do  her  best. 
Walk  in,  Sir,  glad  to  see  you  back.  No,  cab- 
man," she  cried  in  a  shrill  voice,  "we  don't 
let  any  of  them  people  come  in  carrying  boxes. 
My  nephew  will  do  that,  he's  here  on  pur- 
pose," and  she  darted  forward,  thin  and  quick 
like  a  gnat,  while  Katherine  entered  the  din- 
ing-room and  looked  round  it  wonderingly.  ' 

A  lire  was  blazing,  and  there  was  a  lamp 
burning  on  the  sideboard — a  lamp  that  had  no 
shade  on  it  and  brought  out  clearly  the  colour 
of  the  red  flock  paper  on  the  walls.  The  table 
was  laid  for  two,  with  great  spaces  of  white 
cloth  that  made  it  look  desolate  ;  and  in  the 
centre  was  a  large  old-fashioned  cruet-stand. 
On  the  mantelpiece  was  a  big  marble  clock, 
and  behind  it  a  looking-glass  that  reached 
nearly  to  the  ceiling.  The  room  was  ugly, 
with  no  attempt  at  decoration,  and  had  but 
few  signs  that  it  was  lived  in,  yet  it  was  fairly 
comfortable  and  solid-looking — a  certain  sense 
of  dignity  hung  about  it  in  spite  of  the  red 


80  A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

flock  paper.  Katherine  thought  of  the  trees 
at  Severndroog,  and  the  scrubs,  the  gorse  and 
blackberry  bushes,  and  the  garden  of  the 
White  House.  They  had  all  gone  out  of  her 
life  for  ever.  Then  she  looked  round  the  room 
in  which  she  stood  again,  and  felt  that  it 
might  come  to  feel  like  home  if  only  the  hu- 
man beings  who  ruled  her  life  would  have  it  so. 
She  caught  the  reflection  of  her  own  face  in 
the  glass  ;  there  was  a  smile  upon  it,  for  life  is 
a  wonderful  thing  with  its  fascinations  and 
promises  and  the  great  silence  that  we  call 
the  future  before  us  ;  and  she  was  young  and 
curious. 

Mr.  Belcher  followed  her  into  the  room  and 
went  towards  a  heap  of  letters  she  had  not 
noticed  on  the  sideboard.  He  opened  one  and 
began  to  read  it. 

"Oh,"  she  exclaimed  joyfully,  going  quick- 
ly to  his  side,  "  perhaps  there  are  some  for 
me." 

"  There  are,"  he  answered :  "I  am  reading 
one  from  your  uncle." 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  81 

She  looked  at  him  in  silence  ;  surely  there 
was  some  mistake  ;  she  took  up  the  envelope — 
it  was  directed  to  her.  She  put  her  hand  on 
the  other  letters  and  picked  out  a  second  one 
directed  to  her. 

"  Please  let  me  open  it,"  she  said  gently. 

"  You  may  open  that,"  he  nodded.  "I 
wanted  to  see  what  your  uncle  said."  He 
looked  up  for  a  moment  and  saw  her  face. 
"  A  man  has  a  right  to  open  his  wife's  letters," 
he  said,  "  but  she  must  not  open  his — you  un- 
derstand." 

"I  do  so  like  opening  them  myself,"  she 
pleaded. 

"I  may  so  like  opening  them  myself,  and 
shall  if  it  suits  me,"  he  laughed.  " There! 
there's  your  letter  ;  I've  done  with  it.  The  old 
fool  has  been  writing  to  Australia  ;  a  brilliant 
idea  has  occurred  to  him  that  Eichard  may 
have  married  and  left  some  children.  I  hope 
he  didn't ;  it  would  make  a  good  deal  of  dif- 
ference to  us.  Who's  that  from  ?  "  he  asked, 
looking  at  the  letter  in  her  hand. 


82  A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

"  It  is  from  Susan." 

"  Susan  ?  Oh,  the  old  woman  who  couldn't 
manage  to  die  even  with  the  help  of  a  three 
months'  illness — I  don't  want  to  read  her  let- 
ters. What  do  you  think  of  the  house  ?  It 
belonged  to  Taylor  the  stockbroker,  but  he 
couldn't  afford  it  after  the  crash  in  American 
railways  some  years  ago,  so  I  got  it  pretty 
cheaply  :  rather  a  good  stroke  of  business  3 
You  had  better  go  upstairs  and  take  off  your 
things,"  he  said,  with  the  quiet  masterful  man- 
ner that  directed  her  every  movement.  "I 
wrote  and  ordered  dinner  yesterday,  so  I  sup- 
pose it  is  nearly  ready.  Harriet  will  show  you 
the  way,"  and  he  rang  the  bell. 

Then  Harriet  appeared  with  a  flat  candle- 
stick and  conducted  Katherine  up  the  desolate 
stone  staircase. 

Mr.  Belcher  went  back  to  his  letters. 
" Morris  is  an  old  fool,"  he  thought.  "Of 
course,  if  they  know  that  he  is  looking  for 
them,  half-a-dozen  brats  will  turn  up  and  call 
themselves  Richard's.    I  ought  to  have  insisted 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  83 

on  a  settlement ;  I  may  have  saddled  myself 
with  this  girl  for  nothing  at  all.  If  she 
wasn't  to  have  Morris's  money,  I  might  just 
as  well  have  gone  on  amusing  myself  with 
Florence.  There's  some  life  in  her,  and  not 
too  much  sentiment.  I'm  tired  of  this  girl 
following  me  about  with  her  eyes  that  fill 
with  tears  every  time  I  choose  to  pinch  her 
hard  enough."  It  was  odd  how  much  Kather- 
ine's  slim  figure  and  young  face  annoyed  him. 
He  liked  a  full-blooded,  well- developed  woman 
with  slow  gait  and  full  deep  voice,  who  ex- 
pected everything  and  took  it  as  a  matter  of 
course  or  with  a  scornful  laugh,  and  insulted 
him  openly.  Besides,  he  had  never  thought 
women  worth  looking  at  till  they  were  eight- 
and-twenty ;  by  that  time  they  had  learnt  to 
know  their  way  about  and  how  to  use  their 
tongues.  He  hated  soft  words,  and  despised 
obedience  even  though  he  exacted  it.  Youth 
and  innocence  were  in  his  way  ;  he  liked  to 
hurt  it,  to  see  it  writhe  and  shrink  from  him. 
He  had  married  Katherine  with  his  eyes  open, 


84  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

of  course,  but  with  a  clear  and  definite  reason. 
Besides,  it  had  seemed  a  natural  incident 
enough.  It  was  time  he  took  a  wife  if  he 
meant  to  take  one  at  all,  and  in  theory  he  had 
liked  the  idea  of  a  young  one :  women  were 
for  flirtation,  but  girls  were  for  marriage. 
Girls  did  not  want  equality  and  independence 
of  thought  and  companionship,  and  all  the 
modern  nonsense  that  women  were  noisily 
struggling  for  nowadays.  The  nonsense  was 
all  very  well  to  talk  about,  with  other  men's 
wives  or  a  woman  you  had  no  intention  of 
marrying,  but  a  sensible  man  took  care  to  ex- 
clude it  rigorously  from  the  daily  experience 
of  his  own  home.  There  he  should  be  master 
and  the  first  and  only  consideration,  and  so 
Mr.  Belcher  meant  it  to  be  in  Montague  Place. 

"  I'm  going  out,"  he  said  to  Katherine  after 
dinner.     "  I  want  to  talk  to  your  uncle." 

"  May  I  go  with  you  \  I  should  so  like  to 
see  Uncle  Robert's  new  rooms." 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  him  alone,"  he  answered. 
"You  had  better  do  your  unpacking  to-mor- 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  85 

row,"  lie  went  on,  always  careful  to  arrange 
her  time  as  far  as  possible,  "and  go  to  bed 
at  ten.  To-morrow  you  can  set  about  helping 
Gibson  with  the  housekeeping." 

"  I  think  I  can  do  it  by  myself  after  a  bit," 
she  said  timidly.  "I  did  it  at  home  when 
Susan  was  ill." 

"  Gibson  knows  my  ways,"  he  answered. 

He  walked  quickly  towards  Gower  Street. 
At  one  of  the  houses  near  University  College 
Mr.  Morris  had  taken  rooms. 

He  was  at  home,  the  servant  said.  Mr. 
Belcher  walked  quickly  upstairs  to  the  first 
floor.  The  door  of  the  drawing-room  was 
opened  by  a  tall  woman  of  about  eight-and- 
thirty.  She  was  dressed  in  black,  and  round 
her  neck  there  was  a  crucifix ;  she  looked  im- 
perious, but  her  manner  was  that  of  one  who 
had  been  executing  an  errand. 

"Ah,"  she  said,  and  her  accent  betrayed 
that  she  was  a  Frenchwoman  of  somewhat 
limited  English.  "You  want  Monsieur  Mor- 
ris?   Le  void."    Mr.  Belcher  looked  at  her 


86  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

with  astonishment.  She  motioned  him  into 
the  room  and,  shutting  the  door,  disappeared. 

"  Who  was  the  good  lady  kindly  qualify- 
ing your  solitude  ?  "  he  inquired.  Mr.  Morris 
was  sitting  by  the  fire  in  an  arm-chair. 

"  She  is  a— a  widowed  sister-in-law  of  Mrs. 
Merrick,  who  keeps  this  house.  She  lives 
here." 

"I  see." 

"How  is  Katherine  \  " 

"  She's  all  right.  Do  you  like  these 
rooms  ? " 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  stay  in  them  long  ;  I 
want  to  get  into  the  country  again." 

"  You'll  be  better  there,"  Mr.  Belcher  an- 
swered, "  and  safer,"  he  thought,  for  a  French- 
woman about  the  place  was  an  unexpected 
turn  in  affairs.  "I  have  been  thinking,"  he 
went  on  aloud,  "  that  it's  hardly  fair  I  should 
have  the  entire  burden  of  Katherine's  main- 
tenance. I  always  expected  that  you  would 
make  some  definite  settlement  on  her  during 
your  lifetime." 


A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  87 

Mr.  Morris  looked  up  sharply,  and  was 
silent  for  a  moment  before  he  answered.  "  It's 
customary  for  a  man  to  maintain  his  wife,"  he 
said.  "  However,  when  you  pay  me  back  that 
four  thousand,  I'll  settle  it  upon  her  at  once." 

"You  see,"  continued  Belcher,  without 
noticing  the  remark,  "I  married  her  chiefly 
because  you  wished  it ;  I  believe  you  thought 
it  some  compensation  for  the  money  I  owed 
you?" 

"It  was  your  own  idea,  and  as  for  my 
wishes,  you  married  her  because  you  thought 
it  time  to  get  married,  and  because  I  told  you 
that  as  Richard  was  dead  I  should  leave  what 
I  had  to  her.  It  is  not  so  much  as  it  would 
have  been  if  things  had  turned  out  as  you  led 
me  to  expect." 

"A  will  is  not  a  very  good  security  for  a 
promise." 

"You'll  get  no  other,"  Mr.  Morris  an- 
swered positively,  "and  if,  as  Madame  Quib- 
lier,  the  lady  who  left  the  room  as  you 
entered,  suggested  to  me  a  day  or  two  ago, 


88  A  FLASH  OF  SUxMMER. 

Richard  has  left  a  wife  or  children,  I  shall 
make  a  fresh  disposition  of  my  property." 

"  That  idea  about  Richard  is  all  nonsense  ; 
of  course,  if  you  make  known  in  Melbourne 
that  you  are  seeking  for  grandchildren  in 
order  to  endow  them,  why  every  house  in 
Collins  Street  will  produce  some.  However, 
if  you  like  I  will  advertise  in  the  Australian 
papers  ? " 

Mr.  Morris  looked  at  him  carefully  again. 
"I  think  I  can  manage  to  do  that  myself, 
thank  you." 

"It  might  be  amusing  to  go  out  there  and 
see  what  it  is  like  ;  perhaps  if  you  wait  a  few 
months  we  could  go  together." 

"We'll  see,"  Mr.  Morris  answered  brusque- 
ly. "Go  home  to  your  wife,  Belcher,  that's 
the  best  place  for  you,"  and  he  held  out  his 
hand. 

Belcher  felt  himself  dismissed  as  cava- 
lierly as  he  in  turn  treated  Katherine.  "  I 
shall  have  to  keep  a  good  hold  upon  him,"  he 
thought   as    he  went    back.      "Or  with   the 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  89 

Frenchwoman  on  one  side  and  Richard's 
foundlings  on  the  other  he'll  make  a  nice  mess 
of  it.  He's  as  obstinate  as  the  devil,  but  a 
woman  might  influence  him.  I  wish  I  had  left 
marriage  alone :  it  is  only  amusing  for  the  first 
week." 


CHAPTER  V. 

Mr.  Belcher  suffered  Katherine  to  live  in 
his  house,  and  was  civil  to  her.  He  even  rec- 
ognised that  she  had  a  right  to  be  there,  but 
he  took  no  trouble  to  make  her  life  pleasant  ; 
and  at  the  end  of  six  months  she  knew  him 
little  better  than  she  had  done  at  the  end  of 
three.  He  consulted  her  about  nothing,  told 
her  nothing.  She  had  virtually  no  share  in 
household  matters ;  Gibson  saw  to  those,  and 
kept  a  sharp  eye  on  everything — including 
Katherine,  whom  she  did  not  view  too  favour- 
ably. Day  after  day  went  by  with  unvarying 
monotony.  Breakfast  at  eight ;  Katherine 
poured  out  the  coffee  while  Mr.  Belcher  read 
his  letters  and  the  paper.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished it,  he  looked  up  and  made  a  few  curt 

(90) 


A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  91 

remarks,  much  as  though  she  were  an  upper 
servant  who  was  bound  to  stay  with  him.  At 
nine  he  went  out ;  at  a  little  before  seven  he 
came  back  and  generally  inquired  what  she 
had  done  during  the  day,  not  with  the  interest 
of  a  husband  who  cared,  but  with  the  air  of  a 
taskmaster  who  found  some  gratification  in 
knowing  that  the  hours  had  been  long  and 
difficult.  After  dinner,  he  read  his  papers 
again  or  wrote  letters.  Once  he  tried  to  teach 
her  the  mysteries  of  double  dummy>  but,  find- 
ing that  she  did  not  take  a  vivid  interest  in  the 
game,  he  put  the  cards  away  with  a  curt,  "  I 
think  we  have  had  enough  of  that,  thank 
yon,"  and  did  not  attempt  it  again.  At  ten 
o'clock  he  sent  her  to  bed,  and  as  she  left  the 
room  she  generally  saw  him  reach  down  a  box 
of  cigars  from  a  shelf  in  the  corner,  as  though 
he  meant  to  indulge  in  a  pleasant  hour  after 
she  had  gone.  This  was  in  the  dining-room, 
in  which  they  always  sat,  for  the  drawing- 
room  was  covered  np  with  dusting  sheets  and 
hidden  from   the  light  of  day.     There  was  a 


92  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

little  room  on  the  stairs  to  which  Katherine 
went  if  she  felt  that  her  presence  was  not  re- 
quired by  Mr.  Belcher  in  the  dining-room  ; 
and  he  often  made  her  feel  that  it  was  not 
only  not  required,  but  in  the  way. 

Mr.  Morris  spent  the  evening  in  Montague 
Place  occasionally,  but  his  manner  towards 
her,  though  it  was  a  little  gentler,  was  not 
more  easy  than  formerly,  and  she  knew  that 
he  came  to  talk  business  with  her  husband, 
and  so  left  them  together.  Sometimes  two  or 
three  men  came  to  dinner,  and  she  sat  silently 
at  the  other  end  of  the  table  ;  for  Mr.  Belcher 
looked  displeased  if  she  talked,  and  told  her 
once  in  a  sarcastic  manner  after  they  had  gone 
that  her  conversation  was  not  of  absorbing 
interest :  so  she  took  the  hint  and  remained 
silent.  A  few  people,  wives  of  solicitors  and 
anxious  barristers,  called  upon  her,  and  she 
returned  their  calls  and  there  the  acquaint- 
ance ended.  Mrs.  Oswell  came  now  and  then, 
evidently  out  of  kindness  at  first,  and  after- 
wards   because     she    liked    the    lonely    girl. 


A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  93 

Katherine  learnt  many  things  from  her:  how 
to  dress  (though  for  that  purpose  Mr.  Belcher 
gave  her  no  money),  and  what  to  read,  and  a 
little  of  what  was  going  on  in  the  world. 
Thus  in  some  dim  fashion  she  began  to  under- 
stand things  better,  and  gained  as  much  wis- 
dom, perhaps,  as  it  is  given  to  unsophisticated 
girlhood  to  know. 

"She  ought  to  read  the  modern  people," 
Mr.  Oswell  said  ;  and  his  wife  lent  her  Tenny- 
son and  Browning  and  Swinburne.  They  left 
her  with  the  sense  that  had  so  often  beset 
her  since  her  marriage — a  sense  that  life  had 
cheated  her  ;  that  she  stood  by  the  gate  of  the 
world,  but  Mr.  Belcher  held  her  back  and  would 
not  let  her  go  through  and  take  her  share  of 
the  chances  beyond. 

Now  and  then  during  the  first  months  he 
was  good-natured  after  his  own  fashion.  He 
took  her  to  a  theatre  two  or  three  times,  more 
to  amuse  himself  with  her  surprise  at  what  she 
saw  than  to  give  her  pleasure.  Once  he  took 
her  to  Brighton  from  Saturday  to  Monday,  but 


94  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

he  met  someone  he  knew  and  neglected  her, 
and  when  he  went  again  he  left  her  at  home, 
and  she  was  glad  enough  of  the  three  days  in 
silence  and  without  him.  She  was  never  at 
ease  with  him,  never  for  a  single  hour,  for 
though  her  fear  of  him  grew  less  as  time  went 
on,  her  dislike  of  him  increased,  until  it  woke 
up  every  nerve  and  sense  in  her  to  shrink  from 
his  touch,  from  the  sound  of  his  voice,  the 
mere  fact  of  his  presence.  The  one  comfort  of 
her  life  was  that  he  went  out  every  day  and  all 
day.  After  a  time  he  often  went  out  in  the 
evening  too.  She  never  knew  where  he  went 
or  what  he  did  ;  he  gave  no  hint  of  his  doings, 
and  she  never  dreamt  of  asking  him  for  any 
account  of  them. 

But  gradually  she  created  a  life  for  herself  ; 
a  life  of  books  and  thought,  and  long  walks, 
and  voyages  of  discovery  into  the  far  depths 
of  London.  She  made  little  attempts,  too,  at 
helping  others  who  were  poorer  than  herself  ; 
but  she  had  no  money  for  these  last,  and  so  in 
despair  had  to  hold  aloof.     Some  of  her  in- 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  95 

nocence  vanished,  some  of  her  simplicity.  She 
knew  perfectly  why  Mr.  Belcher  had  married 
her,  and  the  half-contempt  with  which  he  re- 
garded her.  Sometimes  she  tried  to  soften 
him,  to  win  his  regard  or  admiration,  but  it 
was  only  done  as  a  matter  of  duty  or  in  rec- 
ognition of  the  fact  that  she  was  his  wife,  and 
with  almost  a  dread  of  her  efforts  having  any 
success.  Books  had  taught  her  the  possibili- 
ties that  the  world  holds  for  each  man  or 
woman  who  comes  into  it,  and  she  looked  on 
aghast  at  the  trick  that  fate  had  played  her. 
She  guessed  keenly  enough  what  they  were 
like,  those  happinesses  and  miseries  that  are 
but  the  complement  of  each  other ;  and  she 
realised  still  more  keenly  the  bondage  that 
was  her  own  portion.  In  those  lonely  days, 
too,  there  stirred  in  her  heart  for  the  first  time 
a  definite  longing  for  human  sympathy  and 
companionship,  and  a  breathless  knowledge, 
though  she  drove  it  from  her  as  a  forbidden 
one,  that  in  human  love  lay  the  secret  of 
human  joy. 


96  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

With  all  this,  since  she  was  but  a  mortal 
woman,  there  came  a  little  undercurrent  of 
happy  vanity — for  she  was  growing  beautiful. 
Her  eyes  were  more  tender,  and  the  sight  of 
joy  or  sorrow  that  others  carried,  even  though 
they  were  strangers  to  her,  had  altered  the 
expression  of  her  face.  Moreover,  walking 
had  made  her  figure  lissom,  and  thrown  back 
her  shoulders  so  that  she  looked  tall  and 
supple. 

"I  should  like  to  know  the  end  of  your 
history,"  Mrs.  Oswell  thought,  as  Katherine 
entered  one  afternoon,  a  glow  of  health  on  her 
face  and  the  dimple  in  her  cheek  showing  it- 
self more  frequently  than  formerly.  "It  isn't 
Mr.  Belcher,  or  I  am  much  mistaken."  Then 
she  said  aloud:  "Well,  you  look  as  if  you 
had  found  your  own  two  feet  and  stood  on 
them." 

"I  have  done  more,"  Katherine  answered, 
"  for  I  have  walked  about  the  world  on  them, 
and  looked  at  the  people." 

"Yes." 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  97 

"And  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
everyone  else  is  needed  by  some  one.  No  one 
needs  me — even  Gibson  thinks  me  in  the  way." 

"Someone  has  need  of  you;  that  is  why 
you  were  born.  Only  you  have  not  found  it 
out  yet,  and  the  world  itself  has  need  of  you 
too  :  we  are  all  little  bits  in  the  great  mosaic." 

"  I  don't  like  to  think  that,"  Katherine 
answered  ;  "it  sounds  so  hopeless  ;  it  is  what 
a  fatalist  might  say.  I  would  rather  be  an 
atom  of  dust  in  the  desert  whirled  along  by  all 
the  winds  that  blow — and  thankful  that  there 
are  four  of  them — or  a  waif  strayed  by  mistake 
into  the  wrong  world." 

"  My  dear,  your  husband  has  need  of  you." 
Mrs.  Oswell  said  it  from  duty  and  tried  to  say 
it  positively. 

"No.  I  wish  he  had;  then  I  wouldn't 
mind  how  badly  he  treated  me."  For  she  had 
long  ceased  to  disguise  her  life  from  Mrs.  Os- 
well, who  had  seen  clearly  what  manner  of 
man  Mr.  Belcher  was  from  the  first,  though 
with  easy  good-nature  she  had  tried  to  defend 


98  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER, 

him.  "He  lias  only  need  of  Uncle  Kobert's 
money." 

Mrs.  Oswell  put  her  hand  on  Katherine's. 
"  I  don't  believe  in  our  lives  being  an  atom 
of  dust  in  the  desert.  Perhaps  one  day,  my 
dear,"  she  said  gently,  "  you  may  have  a  little 
child." 

"I  hope  not."  Her  cheeks  flushed,  and 
her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "If  it  were  a  boy, 
he  might  grow  up  to  be  like  his  father :  I 
don't  want  to  see  more  men  in  the  world  like 
Edward.  If  it  were  a  girl,  it  might  be  as 
lonely  as  I  have  been,  and  make  a  marriage 
like  mine." 

"  It  would  have  a  mother." 

"Yes,"  Katherine  answered,  clasping  her 
hands  across  her  breast  as  if  they  held  a  little 
one  in  them,  "  and  she  would  be  powerless  to 
help  its  life,  and  it  would  feel  that  she  was 
useless  and  ignore  her,  or  perhaps  it  would  be 
sorry  for  her.  I  shouldn't  like  my  child  to  be 
sorry  for  me,"  she  went  on,  lifting  her  head. 
u  I  shouldn't  like  anyone  in  the  world  to  be 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  99 

that,    unless  it  was    someone  much  stronger 
than  myself — someone  I  loved." 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Oswell,  "now  we 
are  coming  to  it,  and  I  can  see  the  red  light  in 
the  distance." 

"  The  red  light  I  " 

"  It  means  danger."  Mrs.  Oswell  counted 
the  gold  bangles  on  her  wrist.  "My  dear, 
why  don't  you  make  your  husband  fall  in  love 
with  you?" 

"  My  husband  !  "  Katherine  exclaimed  with 
a  shudder  she  could  not  hide.  "  I  never  see 
him  except  at  breakfast  time  :  he's  out  all  day, 
and  generally  all  the  evening  too  now." 

"  You  know,"  said  Mrs.  Oswell,  forgetting 
her  tact  in  her  eagerness  to  be  clever,  "I 
shouldn't  be  at  all  surprised  if  there's  some 
woman  he's  fond  of  and  goes  to  spend  his 
evenings  with.  You  see  he  was  six-and-thirty, 
rather  more,  when  he  married  you  :  a  man 
doesn't  get  to  that  age  for  nothing,  and  he 
wasn't  in  love  with  you,  dear  ;  that  was  plain 
enough  on  your  honeymoon." 


100  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"  And  plain  enough  every  moment  he  has 
been  with  me  since,"  Katherine  answered  bit- 
terly. But  there  gathered  a  little  fire  at  her 
heart,  a  little  fierceness  that  increased  her 
hatred  of  Mr.  Belcher  as  she  thought  of  the 
possibility  of  his  having  cared  for  someone 
else,  perhaps  all  the  years  of  his  life,  and  of 
the  manner  in  which  he  possibly  spent  his 
evenings  while  she  sat  alone  in  Montague 
Place.  It  put  a  sense  of  insult  into  her  life 
that  had  not  been  there  before. 

"Mrs.  Oswell,"  she  said,  and  burst  into 
tears,  "  it's  a  terrible  thing  to  be  a  woman." 

"  Would  you  like  to  be  a  man  ? " 

"I  wouldn't  for  the  wide  world,"  she  an- 
swered, with  a  little  horror  in  her  voice. 

11  Would  you  like  to  be  a  horrid  strong- 
minded  thing  clamouring  for  rights  ? " 

"  Of  course  not,"  Katherine  said  indig- 
nantly. "I  don't  think  I  know  what  I  want, 
really." 

"  You'll  find  out  one  day,"  Mrs.  Oswell 
answered.     "  And  when  you  do,"  she  thought, 


A  FLASH  OF  BUMMER.       ,  ;  :         101 

"I  wonder  whether  it  Willie  a'coni^or  a 
tragedy." 

"  I  think  I'll  go  away,"  Katherine  said.  "  I 
have  found  out  a  strange  pleasure  in  life,"  she 
added,  turning  to  Mrs.  Oswell  with  the  quick 
smile  that  was  a  fascination.  "It  is  walking 
about  London  looking  at  the  people.  Every- 
one liyes  a  separate  life  and  has  a  separate  soul 
and  experiences  and  secrets,  and  hopes  and 
ambitions,  some  of  which  I  know  and  others  at 
which  I  only  guess.  I  like  to  see  two  people 
together  best,  and  to  notice  how  they  behave 
to  each  other.  The  most  interesting  are  a  man 
and  a  woman  together." 

"You  have  arrived  at  that  fatal  knowl- 
edge, have  you  \  "  said  Mrs.  Oswell. 

"  I  think,"  Katherine  went  on,  not  heeding 
her,  "  it  must  be  the  most  beautiful  thing  in 
the  world  to  be  the  woman  and  to  love  the 
man,  if  he  is  strong  and  handsome  and  clever 
and  everything  in  the  world,  and  if  he  loves 
you  back  again." 

"  My  dear,"  laughed  Mrs.  Oswell,  "  I  wish 


102  A  FLAitul  .OF  SUMMER. 

you'ccuM  ;j$Vfi  your  husband.  A  woman  can 
love  the  strangest  thing  in  mankind  if  only  the 
whim  takes  her.  For  Heaven's  sake,  go  home 
and  get  sentimental  on  Mr.  Belcher.  It's  my 
sincere  opinion  that  if  yon  don't  you'll  come 
to  utter  grief  somehow  and  some  day  when 
you  find  out  that  every  woman  alive  is  blessed 
or  cursed  with  a  heart." 

"  I  am  different,"  said  Katherine.  "  I  have 
only  a  little  bit  of  one,  but  I  am  very  lonely. 
I  think  my  role  is  to  walk  about  the  world 
and  look  at  it,  but  not  to  play  any  part. 
Sometimes  I  feel  like  a  crane  I  used  to  know 
when  I  was  a  little  girl :  it  stood  on  one  leg 
contemplating  the  moat  by  Eltham  Palace. 
Only  I  don't  want  to  stand  still  as  that  did  :  I 
should  like  to  walk  from  one  end  of  the  world 
to  the  other,  it  is  such  a  beautiful  place." 

"  And  such  a  sad  one." 

"  Yes,  perhaps.  Mrs.  Oswell,  you  have 
been  very  kind  to  me ;  I  am  very  grateful 
and  would  love  you  for  it  if  I  could,  but  I 
don't  think  I  know  how.     They  didn't   teach 


A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  103 

me  in  the  days  of  my  youth.  Good-bye  ;  it's 
nearly  four  o'clock  and  time  to  go  home.  Dot- 
tel  will  be  back." 

"  And  your  husband  too  \ " 

' 'No,  he  sends  Dottel  back  by  the  office 
boy." 

"And  goes  off  to  spend  his  evenings  else- 
where," thought  Mrs.  Oswell.  "Depend  upon 
it  he  doesn't  spend  them  alone  nor  always  with 
his  own  sex;  a  man's  vanity  prevents  him 
from  doing  that."  Katherine  was  looking 
round  the  room :  she  knew  by  an  instinct 
that  had  been  born  in  her  that  its  colours  were 
incongruous,  its  nick-nacks  too  many,  its  ef- 
fects crude  and  perhaps  a  little  vulgar,  but 
still  it  showed  that  the  woman  of  the  house 
had  a  voice  in  it,  arranged  her  furniture  as  she 
pleased,  and  took  a  pleasure  in  her  home. 

"I  wish  I  had  a  home,"  she  said. 

"My  dear  child,  you  have!"  Mrs.  Oswell 
exclaimed,  almost  startled. 

"No.  Mr.  Belcher  has  a  home,  and  lets 
me  stay  in  it,  but  I  have  no  business  there.     I 


104  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

should  like  a  room  to  decorate  and  make 
pretty,  and  that  my  husband  would  come 
home  and  admire.  You  said  that  everyone  in 
the  world  was  needed  by  some  one  person. 
Perhaps  everyone  in  the  world  has  a  home 
somewhere,  but  some  go  on  and  on  and  never 
find  it,  or  die  before  they  reach  it." 

"But  there  is  a  little  room  you  sometimes 
sit  in  alone,"  Mrs.  Oswell  said;  "why  don't 
you  make  that  pretty  % " 

UI  have  no  money.  Uncle  Robert  gave  me 
a  present  at  Christmas,  but  I  spent  it  on  beg- 
gars and  clothes." 

"Doesn't  Mr.  Belcher  give  you  any? 
What  do  you  do  for  postage-stamps  3 " 

"Put  them  down  in  the  weekly  books; 
but  I  don't  use  two  a  month,"  she  laughed. 
"Good-bye  again.  I  must  go  back  to  Mr. 
Belcher's  house.  I  wish  you  hadn't  said  that 
about  another  woman  :  it  makes  me  shrink 
from  him  a  little  more.  I  believe  some  morn- 
ing I  shall  run  away." 

"And  what  will  you  do  then?" 


A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  105 

She  looked  back  as  she  went  out  of  the 
doorway.  "  Walk  all  over  the  world,  seek- 
ing  " 

"  Seeking  what  ?" 

"I  don't  know  yet— but  I  shall."    • 

"  She  is  like  a  woman  in  a  dream,"  Mrs. 
Oswell  said  to  her  husband  that  night.  "  Poor 
little  soul,  I  wish  she  would  wake  up." 

"  Humph  !  Perhaps  she  is  better  off  in  the 
dream  ." 

"  Perhaps — oh,  Fred,  dear,  what  a  blessing 
you  are  !  I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  say  grace  over 
you,  thanking  God  for  my  good  husband  as 
children  sometimes  thank  Him  for  their  good 
dinner." 

"I  don't  think  we  have  a  bad  time  on  the 
whole " 

"  We  have  a  splendid  time,"  she  answered. 


CHAPTER  VI 

It  was  nearly  Easter.  Katherine  had  been 
married  more  than  a  year.  The  buds  were  on 
the  trees  again  :  there  was  blue  in  the  sky,  and 
the  sun  was  shining.  The  streets  were  full 
of  flower-sellers.  People  loitered  as  they 
walked,  looking  in  at  the  shops — or  stayed 
in  the  park  to  watch  the  carriages  driving 
quickly  along — the  faces  in  them  looked  as 
though  they  had  been  told  a  secret  that  was 
pleasant. 

"  I  know  what  it  is,"  Katherine  said  to  her- 
self, "they  may  look  old,  but  they  feel  young. 
Spring  has  touched  their  hearts,  the  sunshine 
is  in  their  eyes  and  they  see  how  lovely  it  is. 

I  wish  Edward n    But  as   she   thought  of 

him  thei-e  came  back  the  memory  of  his  jibes 

(106) 


A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  1()7 

and  his  mocking  tone,  his  visible  intolerance 
of  her  presence.  "  I  wish  I  could  disappear 
out  of  his  life.  I  am  like  a  prisoner  at  the  end 
of  a  chain  that  lets  me  go  out  a  little  way,  just 
so  far,  and  never  any  farther."  She  stopped, 
as  she  went  along  Oxford  Street,  at  a  flower- 
stall.  There  were  bunches  of  daffodils,  round 
balls  of  them,  each  with  a  few  green  blades  in 
the  centre. 

"Twopence  a  bunch,  miss,"  the  man  said. 
She  had  a  shilling  of  her  own,  and  walked 
back  to  Montague  Place  with  her  arms  full  of 
flowers.  People  looked  at  her  as  she  passed 
them  by.  Her  dark  hair  was  coiled  up  into 
a  knot,  her  grey-blue  eyes  looked  fearlessly 
ahead,  as  if  into  the  future.  She  had  the  ex- 
pression of  a  woman  who  is  waiting  and  knows 
that  she  has  far  to  go  before  she  reaches  her 
goal.  But  her  face  had  grown  more  content. 
The  beauty  of  the  world  appealed  to  her  so 
strongly  that  her  own  life  seemed  too  trivial 
a  thing  to  consider  over  much.  Besides,  she 
felt  that  even  that  trivial  thing,  her  own  life, 


108  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

belonged  to  the  world  far  more  than  to  Mr. 
Belcher.  "I  shall  live  in  the  world  all  my 
days,  whether  I  am  with  him  or  not,  and  be 
buried  in  it  when  I  die,"  she  thought.  He 
did  not  want  her,  though  between  them  there 
was  the  terrible  fetter  of  marriage — that  she 
hated  and  at  which  he  chafed,  but  that  neither 
of  them  could  break.  "  For  only  death  or  sin 
could  undo  marriage,  no  matter  how  blindly 
it  was  entered  upon  or  how  miserable  it 
proved,"  she  thought  hopelessly. 

"  A  handsome  girl,"  a  man  said  to  his  wife 
as  they  passed  her. 

"Beautiful,"  answered  the  woman. 

Katherine  heard  them  ;  a  smile  came  to  her 
lips  and  looked  out  of  her  eyes.  "  I  wonder 
if  it  is  true,"  she  said  to  herself:  "to  be 
beautiful  in  a  beautiful  world  sounds  wonder- 
ful," and  she  went  on  her  way.  "I  wish 
some  giant  would  arrive,"  she  thought,  "and 
sweep  all  these  houses  into  the  sea,  and  we 
could  devise  some  way  of  living  without  them, 
under  trees  or  in  tents.     If  we  could  wander 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  109 

away  to  the  far  ends  of  the  world  just  as  we 
liked,  how  much  better  it  would  be.  Then 
Edward  would  not  sit  in  an  office  all  day  and 
listen  to  quarrels  and  grievances,  and  he  would 
think  some  good  of  human  nature,  just  as 
Mrs.  Oswell  does,  and  he  wouldn't  care  for 
money — he  would  be  altogether  different. 
Perhaps  his  office  is  very  ugly,  and  the  peo^ 
pie  who  go  to  him  are  mean  and  ugly  too  : 
"trying  to  get  money  may  have  made  them  so, 
and  they  reflect  themselves  in  him.  He  may 
have  been  quite  different  when  he  started  in 
life"— she  was  turning  the  key  in  the  door 
of  Montague  Place,  and  entered  with  her 
daffodils.  "If  he  would  only  be  different 
again !  I  shouldn't  fall  in  love  with  him  as 
Mrs.  Oswell  said,  but  I  should  like  to  admire 
him  and  to  think  how  good  he  was,  and  that 
it  was  all  my  fault  if  we  were  not  happy  to- 
gether." 

He  was  going  to  dine  at  home  that  evening, 
so  she  arranged  some  daffodils  for  the  table, 
wondering  if  they  would  please  him  ;  but  it  was 


HO  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

a  forlorn  hope,  she  had  made  the  place  pretty 
with  flowers  before  and  looked  her  best  at  din- 
ner and  tried  all  the  artifices  that  yonth  and 
prettiness  know — only  to  find  them  useless. 
He  had  seen  through  them,  and  showed  her 
that  he  did,  and  gone  out.  It  was  four  o'clock 
when  the  flowers  were  done :  two  or  three 
hours  yet  before  he  came  home.  An  idea 
crossed  her  mind  and  took  possession  of  her. 
"I'll  go  and  see  Uncle  Kobert,"  she  said ; 
"  it's  just  possible  I  may  find  him  in,  and  it  is 
a  long  time  since  I  saw  him."  As  if  she  had 
been  touched  by  a  finger  of  fate,  she  turned 
and  went  out  of  the  house.  She  had  only  been 
to  see  him  once  or  twice  before  since  he  had 
come  to  town,  she  never  understood  what  hur- 
ried her  to  him  now.  The  Frenchwoman 
opened  the  door  and  looked  radiant. 

"  Oh,  this  is  good  !  "  she  cried  ;  "I  am  glad 
that  you  have  come  ;  there  is  great  news.  Go 
upstairs,  madame,  and  let  monsieur  your  uncle 
tell  you  himself." 

The  sitting-room  was  in  a  state  of  chaos. 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  m 

Mr.  Morris  was  packing  some  papers  into  a 
box;  he  looked  at  her  with  a  moment's  silent 
bewilderment  before  he  spoke. 

"  Katherine" — his  voice  was  eager  and  hur- 
ried— "I  did  not  expect  you.  Why  have  you 
come  ?    I  have  not  told  Belcher  yet." 

"  What  has  happened,  Uncle  Robert?"  she 
asked.  "Are  you  going  away?"  He  looked 
at  her  under  his  eyebrows  while  he  answered 
in  the  old  hard  manner  that  he  only  seemed 
to  maintain  with  a  struggle. 

"I  had  a  letter  to-day  by  the  Australian 
mail.  Richard — my  son,  has  left  a  wife  and 
two  boys.  I  go  to  Liverpool  to-morrow,  and 
sail  for  Melbourne  on  Wednesday." 

UI  am  glad.  Oh!  dear  Uncle  Robert,  I'm 
very  glad." 

"  Belcher  won't  be,"  he  said  shortly  ;  "  he'll 
think  that  I  shall  not  leave  you  so  much 
money." 

"What  does  it  matter?  People  seem  to 
buy  wickedness  and  misery  with  money.  Per- 
haps these  children  will  make  you  happy." 

8 


112  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"But  what  will  your  husband  say?"  She 
stopped  and  considered ;  a  shudder  passed 
through  her. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  and  quailed 
a  little. 

"  I  did  not  know  he  was  so  hard,  Katherine, 
or  I  would  not  have  let  you  marry  him.  I 
thought  I  was  doing  the  best  I  could  for  you. 
A  woman  is  better  married,  and  there  was  no 
one  else."  It  was  the  only  apology  he  could 
bring  himself  to  make,  and  he  made  it  grudg- 
ingly. 

"Perhaps  he  doesn't  mean "  she  be- 
gan. 

"I'm  glad  you  have  come,"  Mr.  Morris 
went  on,  not  heeding  her,  "for  I  wanted  to 
give  you  this ;  I  wrote  it  out,  and  have  been 
wondering  how  to  get  it  to  you  without  his 
knowledge.  It  is  a  cheque  for  two  hundred 
pounds.  If  I  should  not  return,  and  he  treats 
you  badly,  it  will  help  you  to  do  something 
or  bring  you  out  to  Australia.  Perhaps  you 
had  better  cash  it  to-morrow  ;  it  is  not  crossed ; 


A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  H3 

go  to  the  bank,  get  notes,  and  keep  them  by 
you." 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Robert,  could  you  not  take 
me  with  you?  He  does  not  want  me,  in- 
deed  " 

"Nonsense!  A  woman's  place  is  with  her 
husband,"  he  said,  with  his  old  curtness,  and 
she  knew  there  was  no  appeal.  "  I  must  have 
a  talk  with  Belcher ;  there  is  a  great  deal  to 
say  to  him  before  I  go.  I'll  come  and  dine 
with  you  to-night.  You  had  better  go  back 
now.  Tell  him  I  shall  be  there  by  half-past 
seven— and,  Katherine,  get  that  cheque  cashed 
to-morrow,  but  don't  spend  the  money  unless 
you're  obliged.  Stay !  Can  you  take  this 
telegram  for  me  %  I  must  tell  them  to  keep  a 
room  for  me  to-morrow  night  at  the  hotel  at 
Liverpool,  or  I  may  find  myself  stranded ;  I 
sail  on  Wednesday  morning.  Now,  good- 
bye." He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  and 
the  expression  of  his  face  softened.  "You 
have  grown  into  a  handsome  girl,"  he  said ; 
"the  Frenchwoman  downstairs  talks  a  good 


114  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

deal  of  nonsense  about  you,  but  I  believe  she's 
right."  He  put  his  hands  upon  her  shoulder 
and  kissed  her  forehead.  That  was  his  fare- 
well, for,  though  he  came  to  dinner  that  night, 
she  did  not  see  him  alone  again.  She  asked 
if  she  might  see  him  off  from  Euston,  but  he 
refused,  though  he  seemed  pleased  at  the  re- 
quest. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Mr.  Belcher  hardly  spoke  to  Katherine 
that  evening  while  her  uncle  was  there,  and 
the  next  morning  he  seemed  too  much  en- 
grossed with  his  own  thoughts  even  to  be 
aware  of  her  presence ;  but  he  looked  back 
with  an  expression  that  frightened  her  as  he 
left  the  house.  It  was  the  day  Mr.  Morris  left 
London  ;  she  knew  that  he  had  some  business 
with  her  husband  in  the  middle  of  the  day, 
and  that  was  all. 

The  storm  burst  at  dinner.  He  hardly 
spoke  till  the  cloth  was  cleared  and  Harriet 
had  left  the  room. 

"Your  uncle  is  probably  in  Liverpool  by 
this  time,"  he  said. 

"I  know,"  she  said,  feeling  that  there  was 
more  to  come. 

(115) 


11(3  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"  And  has  left  me  saddled  with  you  for  the 
rest  of  my  days." 

"I  am  sorry,  bat  it  is  not  my  fault," 
she  said,  and  stood  facing  him  on  the  hearth- 
rug. 

"If  you  had  been  a  clever  woman  you 
would  have  managed  him.  You  haven't  a 
spark  of  cleverness  in  you.  The  result  is  that 
he  has  made  a  totally  inadequate  provision  for 
you,  and,  if  this  woman  and  her  brats  get  over 
him,  he'll  probably  make  it  worse  still.  I 
suppose  he  calls  that  behaving  like  an  honest 
man.  I  don't.  An  old  fool — he  was  always 
an  old  fool !  " 

"Please  don't  say  that  to  me,"  she  said 
gently.  "I  am  sorry  he  has  gone,  and  I  hope 
he  will  find  his  grandchildren.  They  will 
make  him  happier." 

"Bosh!  I  hate  sentiment.  I  wonder  if 
you  know  how  tired  I  am  of  seeing  you,  -Kath- 
erine.  I  only  married  you  because  Morris 
wanted  to  get  rid  of  you." 

"He  didn't,"   she  flashed.     He  looked  at 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  117 

her  for  a  moment  and  tried  to  cow  her  with  a 
still  more  bullying  manner. 

"  He  wanted  to  get  rid  of  you,  and  there 
was  no  other  way  of  doing  it.  He  was  tired 
of  you,  as  I  am." 

"Why  did  you  marry  me?  You  knew 
that  I  did  not  want  you,  and  you  were  not 
obliged  to  do  it ;  and  you  didn't  do  it  because 
you  liked  me,  but  only  because  you  thought 
you  would  get  money  by  it.  Oh !  I  hate 
money ;  I  hate  nothing  in  the  world  so  much 
as  money.  But  now  that  is  done,"  she  went 
on  quickly,  with  a  tremble  in  her  voice,  "  what 
is  the  good  of  making  me  miserable  ?  I  have 
done  nothing  that  I  knew  would  vex  you  since 
F  ve  come  into  the  house.  Why  can't  you  be 
kind  tome?" 

"I  don't  want  to  be  kind  to  you.  I  know 
that  you  dislike  me,  and  I  dislike  you,  wan- 
dering up  and  down  the  house  with  your  soft 
footsteps  like  a  cat.     You  are  just  like  a  cat !  " 

"Why  do  you  say  such  cruel  things  to 
me  ?    I  have  done  nothing  to  make  you  hate 


118  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

me  so  much.  Is  it  because  you  like  anybody 
else?"  she  asked,  remembering  Mrs.  Oswell's 
unwise  remark. 

"Yes,  I  like  someone  else,"  he  answered 
triumphantly,  "and  always  have.  Somebody 
who  has  plenty  to  say,  and  is  quick  and  merry, 
and  doesn't  bore  one  as  you  do." 

"Why  didn't  you  marry  her?"  she  asked 
scornfully. 

u  She  was  married,  and  found  her  husband 
as  great  a  clog  as  I  find  a  wife  ;  but  now  he's 
dead — he  died  six  months  ago— and  she  is 
free,  and  I  always  hated  girls :  they  are  so 
stupid." 

"And  I  hate  you,"  she  cried,  "more  than 
anything  in  the  world.  You  married  me  for 
money,  and  I'm  glad  you  have  not  got  it.  I 
hope  you  will  never  get  any,  and  I  shall  write 
and  tell  Uncle  Robert  so." 

"You  can  write  him  anything  you  please. 
He  has  gone  to  the  devil,  and  I  wish  you 
would  go  after  him.  I  saw  Williams,  the 
doctor,   this  afternoon,   and  he  said  that  the 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMiMER.  H9 

chances  are  nineteen  to  twenty  against  his  re- 
turning alive ;  and  he  did  his  worst,  as  far  as 
you  are  concerned,  before  he  started  to-day." 

She  turned  to  leave  the  room  without  an- 
other word. 

"This  has  been  a  nice  little  scene,"  he  said. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  said,  and  burst  into  tears,  "will 
nothing  set  us  free  %  I  never  wanted  to  marry 
you,  and  you  have  never  cared  for  me ;  it  is 
frightful  to  think  that  we  are  condemned  to 
be  together  all  our  lives.  Couldn't  we  part — 
or  at  least  try  to  be  a  little  better  towards 
each  other  V  She  unconsciously  held  out 
her  hand  as  if  in  pacification.  With  uncon- 
trollable rage  he  struck  it  away. 

"Get  out !  "  he  said,  opening  the  door ;  "I 
am  sick  and  tired  of  the  sight  of  you,  and 
have  no  patience  with  tears."  She  looked  at 
her  hand  unbelievingly  and  at  him,  then 
walked  slowly  away.  He  heard  her  going 
upstairs.  He  stood  still  for  a  moment.  "I 
wonder  why  I  hate  her  so  much.  Some  men 
would  like  her — she  is  growing  handsome.     I 


120  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

believe  I  hate  her  because  she  doesn't  light  me. 
I  like  a  spice  of  the  devil  in  a  woman." 

Katherine  went  into  the  little  room  she 
called  her  own.  It  was  still  gay  with  daffo- 
dils. She  threw  herself  down  on  the  sofa.  A 
corner  as  of  something  sharp  made  itself  felt 
against  her  chest ;  she  put  up  her  hand  to  it 
and  remembered.  It  was  the  bank  notes  into 
which  she  had  changed  her  uncle's  cheque. 

She  came  down  early  the  following  morn- 
ing, for  sleep  was  impossible.  The  bitterness 
and  insult  of  the  quarrel  last  night  had  stag- 
gered her ;  she  shivered  as  she  entered  the 
dining-room.  There  were  two  letters  by  her 
plate  on  the  breakfast  table ;  the  top  one  was 
addressed  in  Susan's  handwriting,  the  other 
she  did  not  know.  She  slipped  them  quickly 
into  her  pocket,  for  she  knew  that  Mr.  Belcher 
would  jeer  at  them  even  if  he  did  not  read 
them.  She  heard  him  coming,  and  put  her 
hand  to  her  throat  for  a  moment  to  steady 
herself. 


A  FLASH   OP  SUMMER.  121 

"Good  morning,"  he  said,  in  the  mocking 
voice  that  always  made  her  writhe;  "slept 
well?"  She  looked  back  at  him  with  the 
clear,  unflinching  expression  that  provoked 
his  admiration. 

"Yes,  I  slept  well,"  she  said.  "It  was 
happiness  to  sleep,  for  I  forgot  everything." 
Her  manner  was  distant,  but  so  oddly  cour- 
teous that  for  a  moment  he  was  puzzled.  She 
stood  looking  at  him,  tall  and  scornful  yet 
polite,  older  by  five  years  than  when  he  had 
married  her,  although  it  was  only  fifteen 
months  ago. 

"In  a  temper?" 

"No,"  she  answered  calmly.  "Perhaps 
we'd  better  have  breakfast."  She  poured  out 
his  coffee  and  put  it  beside  him,  with  his  pa- 
per. There  were  some  minutes  of  silence,  then 
he  looked  up. 

"  I  think  we  arrived  at  a  full  understanding 
last  night,"  he  said.  "  If  you  had  been  a  clever 
woman  you  would  have  wheedled  your  uncle 
out  of  some  money." 


122  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"I  did  not  want  it." 

"  There'll  be  next  to  nothing  now  when  he 
dies — that  is,  if  he  gets  out  there  safely  and 
finds  these  brats.  I  should  not  wonder  if  he 
makes  a  new  will,  and  does  away  with  the 
little  he  has  left  you.  He'll  probably  stay  out 
there.  He  has  resigned  his  directorship  and 
everything  else.  Meanwhile,  I'm  saddled  with 
a  log  in  the  shape  of  a  woman  all  my  life.  I 
thought  he  was  going  to  leave  you  twenty-five 
thousand  pounds,  Katherine."  She  got  up 
and  poked  the  fire. 

"  I'm  glad  you  are  not  going  to  get  it." 

"Glad,  are  you?"  he  exclaimed,  starting 
up  and  staring  at  her  face. 

"  Yes,  glad  ! "  she  cried.  "  You  have  made 
me  miserable.  I'm  glad  you  are  not  going  to 
get  his  money." 

"You  fool!  "  he  exclaimed,  and  raised  his 
hand  and  struck  her  again,  just  as  when  she 
was  a  child,  and  before  he  had  grown  more 
gentle,  her  Uncle  Robert  used  to  strike  her. 
She  turned,  and  looked  at  him  with  a  face  so 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  123 

white  and  terrible  that  he  was  frightened.  She 
put  her  hand  upon  the  bell ;  he  seized  it  and 
pulled  it  away.  "Go  and  sit  down,"  he  said, 
and  almost  pushed  her  back  into  her  place. 
"  Will  you  never  understand  that  I  was  hood- 
winked into  marrying  you — a  schoolgirl  I 
don't  care  twopence  about — thinking  you 
would  have  what  you  never  will  have?  I've 
not  wanted  to  be  unkind  to  you,"  he  said 
half  apologetically,  "but  it  makes  me  so 
impatient  to  think  that  I  am  tied  to  a  dum- 
my, a  fool,  a  log,  a  mill- stone  ;  and  mar- 
riage is  so  interminable."  She  got  up  again, 
and  stood  on  the  same,  spot  where  he  had 
struck  her. 

u  I  don't  want  it  to  go  on,"  she  said.  "  You 
made  me  marry  you.  I  was  a  baby,  and  did 
not  dare  oppose  you  and  Uncle  Kobert.  But 
it  is  not  marriage,"  she  said  with  sudden  bit- 
terness ;  "it's  not  like  the  Oswells'  marriage, 
or  the  marriage  of  the  men  and  women  I  see 
walking  about.  You  have  never  been  kind  to 
me,  and  you  have  given  me  no  sympathy  or 


12±  A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

companionship  since  the  day  we  started  from 
Shooter's  Hill  together." 

"I've  given  it  elsewhere." 

"  You  have  only  insulted  me  and  made  me 
miserable,"  she  went  on  calmly,  not  noticing 
his  remark.  "Why  must  we  go  on  living  to- 
gether? I  know  you  hate  me,  as  I  do  you. 
My  one  desire  is  to  go  out  of  your  sight  for- 
ever.    Let  me  go  ! " 

"  You  can  go  to  the  devil,  if  you  like,"  he 
said.  And  he  thought,  "She's  uncommonly 
good-looking,  and  I  had  no  idea  that  there  was 
so  much  spirit  in  her.  Perhaps,  after  all,  she's 
only  artful,  and  not  such  a  fool  as  I  took  her 
to  be." 

"Let  me  go,"  she  repeated,  "and  live  with 
Susan  in  Somersetshire,  or  in  one  of  the  little 
cottages  beyond  the  churchyard  at  Eltham." 
And  she  thought  of  the  palace  and  the  crane. 

"  Who's  to  pay  for  the  separate  establish- 
ment, I  should  like  to  know?  It  might,  of 
course,  be  amusing  to  go  and  see  you  in  a  cot- 
tage," he  sneered  ;  "it  would  make  you  seem 


A   FLASH  OP  SUMMER.  125 

less  like  a  wife — a  wife  is  such  a  bore.  I  could 
run  down  and  dine  with  you  sometimes.  I 
never  understood  why  people  should  be  forced 
to  live  together  all  their  days,  and  every  day, 
just  because  they're  married.  If  you  lived  in 
the  next  street,  we  should  not  hate  each  other 
so  much." 

"If  you  would  only  let  me  go,"  she  went' 
on,  not  heeding  his  remark.  "I  could  live 
on  very  little  money." 

"I  don't  choose  you  to  go  away.  Your 
precious  uncle  would  certainly  do  nothing  for 
you  then."  « 

Gibson  opened  the  door  and  looked  in. 

"Your  portmanteau  is  ready,  sir." 

"Send  for  a  hansom."  Then  he  spoke  to 
Katherine  again.  "I  am  going  out  of  town 
for  a  few  days.  This  is  Wednesday — the  day 
your  precious  uncle  goes  on  board  at  Liver- 
pool. I  shall  be  away  over  Easter.  If  you 
hadn't  been  a  fool  I  might  have  taken  you 
with  me ;  as  it  is,  I  shall  get  pleasanter  com- 
pany.    When  I  return  we'll  continue  our  ami- 


120  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

able  relations.  I'll  put  two  pounds  on  the 
mantelpiece  in  case  you  want  any  money  while 
I'm  away;  you  can  keep  an  account  of  it." 
He  opened  the  door.  "  Is  the  hansom  there  ? " 
he  called. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said,  turning  back  to  Kath- 
erine  ;  "perhaps  as  we  are  going  to  be  sep- 
arated for  a  whole  week  we'd  better  kiss  each 
other." 

"If  you  dare,"  she  said  scornfully,  her 
eyes  flashing  with  anger.  "I  hate  you — I 
hate  you — I  hate  you !  I  would  rather  be 
bitten  by  a  tiger  or  stung — anything  in  the 
world  rather  than  let  you  touch  me.  Go 
away,  go  away ! "  He  stood  and  looked  at 
her  for  a  moment  with  amazement.  Gibson 
came  to  the  door. 

"  Your  bag's  on  the  top,  sir,"  she  said. 

He  looked  at  Katherine  again  and  laughed. 

"You  did  that  very  well,"  he  said,  and 
went  out  of  the  house  followed  by  Gibson. 
"If  she  were  always  like  that,"  he  thought, 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  127 

as  he  drove  off,  "  she'd  be  something  like.  I 
begin  to  think  she's  rather  amusing,  after 
all." 

The  hansom  drove  away.  Gibson  came  up 
the  steps,  and  closed  the  dining-room  door  as 
she  passed.  Then  Katherine  walked  up  and 
down  trying  to  get  calm.  "I  can't  bear  it," 
she  cried  to  herself,  "I  can't  go  on  bearing  it. 
I  would  rather  die  than  live  like  this.  Uncle 
Robert  sails  to-day  "—she  stopped  and  consid- 
ered. "But  there  would  be  no  time  to  over- 
take him  at  Liverpool;  he  may  have  started 
already.  I'll  telegraph  to  him,"  and  she  went 
to  the  writing-table  by  the  window ;  "but  no, 
it  would  be  no  good.  Oh  ! "  and  with  a  sense 
of  insult  that  was  not  to  be  borne,  she  put 
her  hands  against  the  side  of  her  face  that 
he  had  struck.  "I  cannot— cannot  live  and 
see  him  again ;  I  must  go  away  somewhere. 
Uncle  Robert  gave  me  the  money — he  surely 
gave  it  me  for  this.  I'll  follow  him  out" — 
but  as  she  said  it  a  feeling  of  despair  came 
over   her,    and    she   shook    her  head.      "He 


128  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

wouldn't  understand,"  she  said;  "he  used — 
he  used" — she  hesitated,  for  she  could  not 
bear  to  remember  unkindness  after  so  many 
years — uhe  used  to  strike  me,  too,  when  I 
was  little.  He  thinks  about  women  as  Edward 
does — that  they  should  have  no  feeling  but 
submission  towards  men,  and  take  even  blows 
with  meekness."  It  was  the  old  idea,  she 
thought.  But  men  were  not  like  it  in  these 
days,  or  only  the  few,  and  they  the  second- 
rate  men,  who  were  afraid  of  being  found  out 
if  they  did  not  protect  themselves  with  tyran- 
ny. The  best  men  of  any  class  were  different. 
She  knew  that  it  was  so.  She  had  seen  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Oswell  and  all  the  people  who  walked 
together  in  the  streets  of  London.  Little  Har- 
riet downstairs  was  miserable  for  months  after 
her  father  died,  and  her  mother  had  nearly 
died,  too,  of  a  broken  heart.  No  one  would 
die  of  a  broken  heart  for  Mr.  Belcher.  "Oh, 
I  can't  bear  it!  I  can't  bear  it!"  she  cried, 
and  hid  her  face  in  her  hands.  "I  will  go 
away — right  away — and  never  let  him  see  me 


A   FLASH  OP  SUMMER.  129 

again.  I  will  go  to  Susan  and  live  with  her." 
Then  she  remembered  that  there  was  a  letter 
from  Susan  in  her  pocket,  as  well  as  another 
in  a  strange  hand — the  letters  she  had  found 
on  the  table  when  she  came  down.  Susan's 
was  merely  to  wish  her  a  happy  Easter,  and 
to  say  that  she  had  not  been  well  lately,  and 
had  a  niece  coming  to  stay  with  her.  Kath- 
erine  read  it  first  from  a  sense  of  loyalty,  but 
she  was  curious  about  the  strange  one :  it 
made  a  break  in  the  misery  of  that  terrible 
morning.  It  proved  to  be  from  a  firm  of 
solicitors  in  Chancery  Lane,  and  enclosed  a 
cheque  for  ninety  pounds,  a  legacy  less  duty, 
bequeathed  her  by  Mrs.  Barrett,  who  had  died 
three  months  before.  She  looked  up  with 
amazement,  a  little  dulled  by  the  excitement 
she  had  been  going  through.  Ninety  pounds, 
and  no  one  knew  she  had  it,  besides  the  two 
hundred  her  uncle  had  given  her  on  Monday  ! 
It  was  a  fortune  to  Katherine,  for  she  was 
wholly  unused  to  deal  with  money,  and  knew 
but  little  of  its  value.     It  was  surely  a  chance 


130  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER, 

sent  from  Heaven?  If  only  Mrs.  Oswell  were 
in  town  she  would  have  gone  to  consult  her ; 
as  it  was,  she  sat  still  with  clasped  hands 
looking  at  the  cheque.  It  was  crossed  and 
payable  to  order.  UI  will  go  to  the  bank 
and  cash  it,  and  then  I'll  go  to  Bridgwater 
to  Susan  and  have  one  happy  peaceful  week 
before  he  comes  back,  and  then — he  shall  come 
and  fetch  me  if  he  wants  me.  Poor  Susan ! 
if  she  is  ill  I  can  nurse  her,"  she  thought, 
longing  to  be  tender  to  somebody.  "She  will 
be  glad  when  she  sees  me.  I  cannot  stay.  I 
must  go— I  must ;  and  it  is  best  for  both  of 
us.  I  cannot,  cannot  stay ! "  she  kept  on  re- 
peating to  herself  as  she  went  slowly  upstairs 
and,  like  a  woman  in  a  dream,  gathered  to- 
gether most  of  her  belongings.  %i  I  had  better 
take  them.  I  shall  never  come  back  unless 
he  makes  me,"  she  thought;  " perhaps  Susan 
will  like  them  when  I  am  dead."  She  pulled 
her  trunk,  the  one  she  had  taken  to  Winder- 
mere, out  from  the  corner.  The  lock  was 
broken ;  it  did  not  matter ;  there  was  a  little 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  131 

strap  on  either  side  that  would  be  fastening 
enough.  She  began  putting  in  one  thing  after 
another  till  it  was  full,  hardly  knowing  what 
she  did,  only  eager  to  get  away  from  the 
house,  away  from  Mr.  Belcher  for  ever  and 
ever.  She  took  Uncle  Robert's  money  out  of 
the  little  desk  in  which  she  had  hidden  it  last 
night,  and  put  it  in  her  bosom,  and  then  she 
looked  at  the  cheque  for  Mrs.  Barrett's  legacy. 
"I  wonder  if  she  knows  about  me  now,"  she 
said  to  herself,  "or  if  the  dead  know  nothing, 
but  lie  in  their  graves  straight  and  still  for 
ever."  She  went  to  the  glass  to  put  on  her 
hat  and  stared  at  her  own  face.  It  was  like 
a  stranger's.  Then  she  wandered  aimlessly 
round  the  room,  as  if  trying  to  remember 
something.  "No,  no;  that  is  all."  She 
sighed  and  rang  the  bell. 

"Harriet,"  she  said,  "send  for  a  cab  and 
have  this  box  put  on  it.  I  am  going  to  Bridg- 
water." 

Gibson  came  up  quickly. 

"Does  the  master  know  you  were  going, 


132  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

ma'am?"  he  asked  sharply;  "and  when  are 
you  coming  back  ? " 

"That  does  not  concern  you,  Gibson," 
Katherine  answered  quietly;  "Mr.  Belcher 
will  be  here  on  Wednesday  ;  you  had  better 
be  ready  for  him."  The  box  was  put  on  the 
cab,  and  she  drove  away.  The  two  servants 
looked  at  each  other. 

"He's  kept  too  tight  a  hand,"  Gibson  said 
to  herself,  "just  as  his  father  did  before  him. 
It's  my  belief  she's  gone  away  to  cry  her  life 
out  with  that  old  woman  at  Bridgwater." 

"If  I  was  in  her  place,"  thought  Harriet, 
"  I  wouldn't  come  back  till  I  couldn't  help 
myself.  He  doesn't  care  a  bit  about  her. 
Lor !  she  should  have  seen  father  and  mother 
and  what  they  was  to  each  other." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Katherine  held  her  breath  as  she  drove 
away.  She  felt  like  a  prisoner  escaping,  and 
prayed  that  she  might  never  enter  the  honse 
again  ;  to  live  in  it  meant  misery  and  degrada- 
tion. A  change  must  be  made ;  something 
must  happen.  She  would  go  to  Susan,  go  any- 
where— what  did  it  matter  where  t— for  the  rest 
of  her  days.  She  was  cowed  and  insulted, 
miserable  and  desperate. 

44 But  I  will  never  go  back,"  she  said  to 
herself,  "I  will  never,  never  enter  the  house 
again.  Uncle  Robert's  money  and  Mrs.  Bar- 
rett's legacy  shall  save  me.  I  had  better  get 
the  cheque  cashed  at  once.  Oh,  dear  Mrs. 
Barrett,  thank  you,  thank  you  for  leaving  it 
to  me."    At  the  bank  she  learnt  to  her  sur- 

(133) 


134  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

prise  that  they  could  not  change  it,  and  the 
clerk  explained  the  mystery  of  the  two  lines 
across  it. 

"But  I  have  no  banking  account,"  she  said. 

"Then  the  simplest  way  would  be  to  take 
it  back  to  the  drawers,"  he  suggested,  "their 
office  is  only  at  the  top  of  Chancery  Lane,  not 
a  hundred  yards  from  here." 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  and  gave  the  clerk 
a  grateful  look :  he  remembered  it  all  that  day. 

The  lawyers  readily  agreed  to  cash  the 
cheque  for  her,  and  when  she  had  signed  it  and 
some  strange  mark  had  been  put  upon  it,  a 
messenger  was  sent  to  the  bank.  "I  saw  your 
husband  yesterday,  Mrs.  Belcher,"  the  senior 
partner  remarked. 

"Yes?  He  was  to  go  to  the  country  this 
morning,"  she  answered,  with  a  little  shudder 
she  could  not  help. 

"And  are  you  about  to  follow  him?"  he 
asked  politely. 

"No,  I'm  going  to  a  friend  of  my  own  at 
Bridgwater." 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  135 

"I  often  saw  him  at  Brighton  during  the 
winter." 

"  Yes,  he  went  from  Saturday  till  Monday," 
and  she  remembered  how  she  had  been  left  at 
home — though  she  had  been  thankful  enough 
to  be  at  peace — while  he  had  possibly  been  with 
somebody  else,  the  somebody  else  he  liked  so 
much,  and  who  was  now  free.  Surely  she  was' 
right  to  go  away  ?  She  must  and  would — and 
for  ever. 

"You  have  only  twenty  minutes  to  catch 
your  train,"  the  lawyer  said,  as  he  handed  her 
the  notes  and  saw  her  down  to  her  cab.  "I 
wonder  what  made  that  beautiful  girl  marry 
Belcher  ? "  he  thought  as  she  disappeared.  "  I 
wouldn't  give  much  for  her  chance  of  happi- 
ness, poor  thing.  I  have  a  notion  somehow 
that  he  doesn't  know  about  this  little  legacy, 
and  I  shall  not  feel  it  my  duty  to  enlighten 
him." 

Meanwhile,  Katherine  drove  on  to  Padding- 
ton.  "I  feel  as  if  I  carried  a  fortune,"  she 
thought,  but  she  was  cold  and  sick  with  misery, 


136  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

for  Mr.  Belcher's  blow  haunted  her,  and  fear — 
the  fear  that  somehow  he  would  overtake  her 
even  before  she  reached  the  shelter  of  Susan's 
little  home  at  Bridgwater.  This  was  why  she 
did  not  realise  till  the  porter  opened  the  cab 
door  that  she  was  at  least  five  minutes  too  late 
for*  her  train. 

"  I  must  wait  for  the  next,"  she  said. 

By  some  accident  her  box  slipped  as  it  was 
being  lifted  from  the  cab  and  fell  on  to  the 
pavement ;  the  broken  lock  gave  way,  the  lid 
was  twisted  aside  and  one  of  the  hinges 
wrenched  from  its  bearings. 

"  I  am  awfully  sorry,  miss,"  the  porter  said 
apologetically,  pushing  back  the  contents  of 
the  trunk.  "It  was  quite  an  accident.  I'll 
tie  a  bit  of  rope  round  it."  He  carried  it  into 
the  station  and  then  turned  round.  "Why, 
the  next  train  doesn't  go  for  the  next  two  hours 
and  a  half,  miss.  You'll  have  time  to  get  it 
mended.     There's  a  shop  not  two  minutes  off." 

"Oh  !  it  doesn't  matter,"  she  said  ;  "it  can 
be  mended  at  Bridgwater,"  and  sat  down  in  the 


A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  137 

waiting-room.  A  half -frightened  sense  of  ad- 
venture came  over  her.  She  had  never  been  a 
journey  alone  in  her  life  before,  and  the  fact 
that  she  was  going  to  take  it  without  the 
knowledge  of  anyone  who  had  control  over  her 
made  the  little  one  to  Susan  seem  a  daring 
thing  to  undertake.  She  felt  as  if  a  terrible 
penalty  must  await  it,  but  the  penalty  would 
not  come,  at  any  rate,  till  the  end  of  a  week. 
She  counted  the  days  to  Mr.  Belcher's  return. 
Six  whole  ones  before  he  would  drive  up  in  a 
hansom  to  Montague  Place  with  Dottel — poor 
ugly  Dottel — on  the  seat  growling  and  looking 
out  at  the  people  passing  by.  He  would  ask 
for  her  and  hear  that  she  had  gone  to  Bridg- 
water without  his  leave,  without  telling  him, 
without  his  money,  for  she  had  left  the  two 
pounds  on  the  mantelpiece  in  the  dining-room. 
She  wondered  if  he  would  telegraph  or  write  or 
come.  "But  I  won't  go  back,"  she  thought. 
"  I  will  stay  with  Susan  all  my  life  or  hide  my- 
self somewhere  else."  Then,  stunned  and 
dazed  at  the  events  of  the  morning,  she  fell 


138  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

half  asleep,  while  some  jibbering  fiend  whis- 
pered to  her,  "  You'll  have  to  go  back — you'll 
have  to  go  back — he'll  make  you,  and  then 
he'll  treat  you  a  thousand  times  worse.  Some 
day  he'll  kill  you." 

"  He  won't,"  she  answered  in  a  dream,  "for 
I  will  kill  myself." 

"You  will  never  do  that,"  the  fiend  said, 
"for  you  want  to  live  ;  and  if  he  does  not  kill 
you,  you'll  have  to  live  years— and  years— and 
years."  Then  a  voice  in  the  distance,  that  was 
wholly  different,  and  seemed  to  belong  to  some 
pitying  soul  that  stretched  out  its  arms  to  her 
and  was  sorry,  tried  to  comfort  her.  "  The 
world  is  very  beautiful,"  it  said  ;  "you  wanted 
to  walk  all  over  it ;  it  is  full  of  joy  and  sorrow 
and  work  to  do,  and  somewhere  in  it  someone 
has  need  of  you,  just  as  Mrs.  Oswell  said." 
The  tears  came  into  her  eyes,  and  her  throat 
was  choked  by  a  sob. 

"I  know,  I  know;  but  I  am  stunned  and 
blind  and  afraid,"  she  answered.  "What  can 
I  do  ?— where  shall  I  go  ?— oh,  take  me  and  hide 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  139 

me  away  from  the  life  I  have  known,  and  let 
me  be  happy — just  a  little  bit  happy  and  safe, 
and  hidden  from  him."  She  put  her  head 
down  her  breast,  in  order  to  show  no  sign 
while  the  people  passed  to  and  fro,  each  one 
full  of  his  or  her  own  concerns.  Then  there 
came  back  to  her  like  a  message  out  of  the 
past,  with  a  little  reproach  in  it  for  not  having 
understood  it  at  the  time,  'Mr.  Os well's  talk  at 
Windermere  about  the  boats  to  the  Mediter- 
ranean, and  the  little  places  along  the  coast 
that  his  wife  had  despised.  She  held  her 
breath  as  she  thought  of  them.  It  seemed  a 
daring,  desperate  thing  to  do,  but  she  was  a 
daring,  desperate  woman.  "If  I  could  get  to 
one  of  them,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  he  would 
never  find  me."  It  would  be  far  better  than 
going  to  Susan.  She  thought  of  the  blue  sea 
and  the  mountains,  and  Mrs.  Oswell's  descrip- 
tion of  how  the  people  ate  macaroni  and  basked 
in  the  sun,  and  went  to  mass  in  the  morning, 
and  sat  round  their  little  oil-lamps  in  the  even- 
ins:.     It  all  came  back  as  if  it  had  been  but 


140  A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

yesterday.  "  He  said  that  the  boats  started 
from  Southampton  on  Wednesdays.  I  will  go 
— I  will  go  at  once ! "  she  cried,  starting  up ; 
but  she  did  not  know  even  how  to  get  to  South- 
ampton, or  from  what  station  the  train  went, 
and  she  was  afraid  to  make  many  inquiries  lest 
Mr.  Belcher  should  trace  her,  and  drag  her 
back,  gagged  and  pinioned.  Chance  befriend- 
ed her:  for  once  in  her  wanderings  she  had 
passed  a  shipping  office  in  Waterloo  Place, 
and  it  occurred  to  her  that  the  best  thing  to 
do  would  be  to  go  there  and  inquire,  even 
though  she  missed  the  ship  for  this  week.  She 
rescued  her  broken  trunk  from  the  heap  of 
luggage  among  which  it  had  been  placed,  and, 
breathless  and  almost  irresponsible,  drove  off. 
Four  hours  later  she  was  at  Southampton. 
The  boats  sailed  from  there,  surely  enough, 
though  the  day  of  sailing  had  been  changed  to 
Thursday.  She  had  decided  that  it  was  better 
to  fly  from  London  at  once,  and  taken  her 
passage  to  Genoa.  She  took  it  at  the  office  in 
Waterloo  Place,  and  as  Miss  Katherine  Kerr, 


A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  141 

for  when  the  clerk  had  asked  what  name  he 
was  to  put  on  her  ticket,  she  did  not  dare  to 
give  her  husband's  ;  moreover,  she  never  want- 
ed to  be  known  by  it  again. 

The  Windermere  experience  taught  her  how 
to  enter  the  hotel  at  Southampton,  and  desper- 
ation kept  up  her  courage.  She  arrived  in  the 
afternoon,  and  like  a  woman  in  a  dream  walked 
about  the  place,  looking  across  to  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  and  staring  at  the  tall  masts  of  the 
ships  and  the  busy  life  along  the  shore.  Every- 
thing was  so  strange  to  her,  and  like  the  set- 
ting of  a  dream.  She  wondered  if  it  were  her 
own  self  who  walked  about,  or  someone  else 
into  whom  she  had  been  changed.  As  if  some 
impulse  which  was  not  her  own  controlled  her, 
she  stopped  before  a  trunk-shop  and  remem- 
bered her  broken  box.  The  shop  was  full  of 
leather  cases,  P.  and  O.  boxes,  such  as  people 
usually  take  on  board  ship  for  their  cabins. 
She  had  seen  the  passengers  at  the  station 
arriving  with  them  from  other  ships.  So  she 
entered,  and  bought  one  and  a  Gladstone  bag, 


U2  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

and  then,  trying  to  imagine  what  else  she 
needed  to  make  her  resemble  an  ordinary 
traveller,  became  possessed  of  wraps  and  other 
things  that  helped  to  disguise  her  if  here- 
after Mr.  Belcher  tried  to  trace  her  by  de- 
scription. All  this  was  done  by  chance  or 
fate  rather  than  intention  of  hers.  The  old 
box  was  given  to  the  chambermaid,  who,  see- 
ing that  Katherine  was  young  and  sad,  for 
some  sympathetic  reason  told  her  that  in  a 
week's  time  she  was  going  to  America  to 
keep  house  for  a  brother  whose  wife  had 
died. 

In  the  night,  that  first  night  she  had  ever 
been  adrift  in  the  world,  with  no  one  having 
knowledge  of  her  whereabouts,  some  sort  of 
reaction  overtook  her.  The  thing  she  was 
doing  seemed  so  unbelievable  when  she  calmly 
considered  it.  She  was  running  away  from 
home,  from  everybody  who  knew  her ;  she 
was  going  out  into  the  strange  world  alone, 
among  people  she  had  never  seen,  and  to  some 
place  of  which  she  did  not  even  know  the 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  143 

name,  and  that  was  only  a  vague  dream  to 
her.  She  sat  up  in  bed  and  looked  out  into 
the  darkness,  and  considered  her  position  in 
sheer  astonishment.  "  Perhaps  I  ought  to 
have  gone  to  Uncle  Robert,"  she  thought. 
But  she  knew  that,  though  he  had  given  her 
two  hundred  pounds  in  case  of  an  emergency, 
he  would  sternly  disapprove  of  her  conduct. 
"A  woman  must  submit  to  the  authority  of 
her  husband,"  he  would  have  told  her,  and 
sent  her  back.  Or  Susan  ?  Susan  would  send 
her  back,  too,  cowed  and  submissive.  She 
was  quite  right  not  to  go  to  Bridgwater.  She 
wished  she  had  written  to  Mr.  Belcher  before 
leaving  his  house,  and  told  him  that  he  was 
free,  that  she  would  never  trouble  him  again 
nor  cost  him  anything,  and  that  he  might 
marry  anyone  else  if  he  liked,  for  he  should 
never  see  her  again.  It  would  have  been  a 
good  thing  to  do.  She  ought  to  have  thought 
of  it  in  London,  for  presently  she  would 
not  dare  to  write  lest  the  postmarks  be- 
trayed her  hiding-place.  But  it  did  not 
10 


144  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

matter.  He  would  only  be  glad  that  she 
was  gone,  and  go  on  with  his  life  contentedly 
enough. 

"I  will  never  go  back,"  she  said  aloud.  It 
was  not  as  if  she  had  made  him  happy,  or  as 
if  he  had  liked  her  or  needed  her.  She  had 
only  been  in  his  way.  If  she  had  stayed  with 
him  he  would  have  broken  her  heart,  or  else 
—and  she  looked  up  as  if  she  were  listening 
to  something ;  it  was  the  recognition  of  a 
strange  possibility  in  her  heart,  and  she  could 
hardly  believe  it — or  else  he  would  have  roused 
her  and  made  her  a  bad  and  cruel  woman,  and 
some  day  she  might  have  killed  him.  She 
understood  now  how  it  was  that  dreadful 
things  were  done.  Oh,  it  was  terrible !  she 
thought.  ~No  people  in  the  world  ought  to 
marry  unless  they  felt  that  if  no  ceremony  at 
all  had  ever  been  known  they  would  have 
lived  together  just  the  same  all  their  lives  be- 
cause they  could  not  bear  to  live  apart.  That 
would  be  marriage,  but  they  were  not  married 
— he  and  she — and  she  would  never  say  that 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  145 

they  were  again.  When  she  had  arrived 
at  this  conclusion,  she  put  her  head 
down  on  the  pillow  once  more  and  tried 
to  sleep ;  but  she  dreamt  that  Mr.  Belcher 
was  sending  down  a  shower  of  blows 
upon  her,  and  awoke  to  realise  with  shud- 
dering thankfulness  that  she  was  beyond  their 
reach. 

She  went  on  board  as  early  as  possible  the 
next  day,  and  breathed  freely  as  she  went 
over  the  gangway.  The  stewardess  told  her 
that,  as  there  were  so  few  passengers,  she 
could  have  a  cabin  to  herself.  The  possibil- 
ity of  a  companion  had  not  occurred  to  her, 
but  she  recognised  the  danger  she  had  escaped. 
She  tried  to  stay  on  deck  and  watch  the  hurry 
and  bustle  of  getting  away,  but  it  was  no  good 
— she  could  not  bear  it.  She  went  to  her  cabin 
and  shut  the  door  and  sat  on  the  sofa  berth 
beneath  the  port-hole,  and  looked  at  her  new 
P.  and  0.  box  and  the  bag  beside  it,  and  trem- 
bled with  exhaustion— the  exhaustion  of  con- 
tinual excitement,  of  fear  and  daring.     There 


146  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

were  voices  and  footsteps  coming  on  board, 
and  the  loud  click-clicking  of  the  crane  hoist- 
ing bales  of  goods  on  to  the  deck.  Then  the 
donkey-engine  began,  and  presently  the  ropes 
were  gathered  in  and  the  captain's  stentorian 
voice  gave  orders  from  the  bridge  ;  it  was  like 
music  to  Katherine's  ears.  More  going  up  and 
down  and  crowding  and  talking,  the  occasional 
rattle  of  a  glass  or  dropping  of  some  heavy 
load,  a  shriek  from  the  funnel  and  the  stop- 
page of  the  donkey-engine,  a  tremulous  feeling 
that  shook  the  boat,  and  the  rushing  of  the 
water  at  the  side. 

"We  have  started,"  she  cried,  and  rose  to 
her  feet,  trembling  with  excitement  again. 
She  threw  off  her  gloves  and  hat,  and,  kneel- 
ing upon  the  berth,  looked  out  of  the  port- 
hole. Yes,  they  had  started.  The  shore  was 
receding  farther  and  farther  from  the  ship. 
She  looked  at  the  widening  sea  with  a  strange, 
unbelieving  joy.  An  indescribable  sense  of 
security  came  over  her ;  a  sob  came  into  her 
throat.      Suddenly  her   eye   caught  a   gleam 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  147 

of  gold ;  it  was  the  wedding-ring  on  her 
third  ringer.  With  a  quick  movement 
she  drew  it  off  and  flung  it  into  the  wa- 
ter. "It  is  all  over,"  she  cried,  "and  I  am 
free  ! " 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

Four  days — a  long  draught  of  freedom  and 
contentment.  The  sea  had  been  rough  enough, 
but  it  was  deepest  blue  now,  and  the  sunshine 
was  pricking  it  everywhere  with  gold.  Light 
and  warmth  everywhere,  while  a  happy  breeze 
went  by,  touching  the  travellers  on  its  way. 
Katherine's  face  had  lost  the  hunted  look  it 
wore  the  day  she  came  on  board.  The  cap- 
tain stared  at  her  with  undisguised  admira- 
tion, and  wondered  what  might  be  her  history. 
Her  fellow-passengers  were  disposed  to  be 
friendly.  But  there  was  a  natural  dignity 
that  stood  her  in  good  stead,  and  helped  her 
to  keep  them  at  a  distance.  "  Sensible  girl," 
a  middle-aged  man  going  out  to  Venice  said 
to  himself ;  "she  knows  her  own  business  and 

(148) 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  149 

means  to  mind  it."  The  ship  arrived  at  Gi- 
braltar on  the  fifth  day,  and  the  passengers 
went  ashore  for  a  few  hours.  It  was  early- 
morning  ;  the  market  was  crowded,  the  main 
street  full  of  life.  Katherine  hesitated ;  she 
was  half  afraid,  but  she  remembered  that  she 
was  by  herself,  and  hoped  to  be  so  forever, 
and  gathered  courage.  She  walked  a  little 
way  towards  Europa  Point,  then  the  courage 
fled  ;  she  turned  round  quickly  and  went  back. 
"Not  yet,  not  yet,"  she  said  to  herself.  "I 
know  it  is  all  beautiful  and  strange,  but  I  am 
blind  and  deaf  still,  and  feel  safe  nowhere  but 
on  board."  The  ship  was  deserted ;  nearly 
everyone  was  ashore.  She  sat  on  deck  and 
watched  the  Rock  and  its  wonderful  gardens, 
which  were  a  mass  of  bloom,  and  the  people 
moving  to  and  fro,  and  she  looked  across  at 
the  African  coast  on  the  other  side  and  thought 
how  wonderful  it  was  to  see  the  edge  of  an- 
other quarter  of  the  world.  Mr.  Belcher  and 
Montague  Place  seemed  to  have  passed  out  of 
her  life,  but  the  events  of  the  last  week  had 


150  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

left   her  tired.     By  and    by  she  would   feel 
better. 

The  day  wore  on,  and  the  passengers  began 
to  return.  "They  will  ask  me  questions  if  I 
stay  here,"  she  thought,  and  went  down  to  her 
cabin  again — that  blessed  little  cabin  in  which 
she  had  sealed  her  freedom  when  she  flung  her 
wedding  ring  through  the  port-hole.  It  was  as 
if  she  had  drawn  her  pen  across  a  terrible 
chapter  in  her  life  that  had  only  by  some  dire 
chance  been  written  on  her  memory.  It  was 
so  good  to  lie  on  the  sofa,  with  the  port-hole 
open,  to  feel  the  sweet  air  coming  in— air  that 
Mr.  Belcher  had  never  breathed  in  his  life — 
and  all  the  sounds  of  happy  life  from  the 
shore.  She  heard  voices  as  of  arrivals,  and 
heavy  luggage  being  carried  on  board — 
quantities  of  it.  It  was  put  down  with  a 
thud  on  the  lower  deck,  ready  for  carry- 
ing below  or  into  the  cabins.  There  was 
a  light  footstep,  and  a  woman's  voice  said 
merrily : 

"  What  a  clean  little  ship  it  is !     We  shall 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  151 

enjoy  our  three  days  on  board  her,"  as  it  went 
past  Katherine's  cabin-door. 

"  As  long  as  the  Immortal  doesn't  mind  it, 
I  don't  care,"  a  man  answered.  "If  he  does 
mind  it,  and  he's  going  to  be  next  us,  I  do." 

"Look  after  the  Mummy,  George  darling, 
and  I'll  take  care  of  the  Immortal,"  the  wom- 
an, whose  voice  seemed  familiar  to  Katherine> 
answered  back.  Then  she  heard  no  more- 
only  the  sound  of  the  donkey-engine  begin- 
ning again,  and  more  footsteps  and  voices 
and  confusion  and  hurrying,  and  she  knew 
that  the  ship  was  being  made  ready  to  move. 
She  longed  for  it  to  go  on.  She  had  discov- 
ered that  she  loved  the  sea  and  board-ship  ;  it 
made  her  feel  like  an  infant  being  rocked  in  a 
huge  cradle  by  a  wise  and  loving  mother ;  she 
would  be  sorry  when  they  reached  Genoa,  but 
that  was  three  days  ahead — three  good  days 
of  life  to  live.  How  beautiful  it  was  to  be 
alone  !  "I  should  like  to  spend  a  lifetime  in 
this  dear  ship  at  sea,"  she  thought.  Then  she 
looked  up  though  the  port-hole  again.     The 


152  A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

donkey-engine  had  stopped,  the  Rock  was 
going  backwards,  the  ship  had  started.  She 
waited  another  hour  in  her  cabin,  then  put  on 
a  shady  hat  and  went  on  deck.  There  were 
only  two  or  three  people  about,  the  middle- 
aged  man  was  reading  a  novel,  and  the  Ger- 
man husband  and  wife  who  had  come  on  board 
at  Southampton  stood  watching  Gibraltar  as 
the  ship  sped  on  away  from  it.  Suddenly  she 
came  upon  an  old  lady  sitting  by  the  wheel- 
house  on  a  deck-chair  ;  a  shawl  was  wrapped 
round  her  shoulders,  a  railway-rug  had  been 
put  carefully  over  her  knees. 

uThis  must  be  the  Mummy,"  she  thought. 
A  closely  written  letter  was  pinned  to  the  rail- 
way-rug, so  that  it  might  not  blow  away : 
its  owner  read  it  again  and  again  while  she 
knitted.  She  looked  up  as  Katherine  passed, 
and  her  ball  of  brown  worsted  rolled  on  to  the 
ground.  Katherine  picked  it  up,  and  saw  by 
chance  that  the  letter  pinned  to  the  railway- 
rug  was  dated  from  Simla. 

"  Thank  you,"  the  old  lady  said.     She  was 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  153 

not  very  old — sixty,  perhaps — but  she  looked 
delicate  and  even  feeble.  She  had  grave  dark 
eyes  and  a  sallow  complexion,  and  quantities 
of  soft  grey  hair,  half  hidden  in  an  old-fash- 
ioned white  lace  cap.  But  above  all  there  was 
something  stately  about  her.  "  What  a  beau- 
tiful face ! "  Katherine  thought  to  herself,  as 
she  turned  away.  UI  wish  my  mother  had 
lived  and  looked  like  that,  and  had  loved  me." 
Two  people  came  up  the  companion  and  passed 
by  her ;  she  did  not  see  their  faces,  but  they 
were  evidently  young.  The  man  was  tall  and 
soldierly,  the  woman  was  graceful.  They 
went  to  the  old  lady. 

" Are  you  all  right? "  asked  the  man  affec- 
tionately. 

"  I've  arranged  all  your  things  in  your 
cabin,"  said  the  woman,  and  again  the  voice 
sounded  familiar,  "  the  Immortal  is  happy,  and 
so  are  we."  Katherine  walked  the  length  of 
the  ship  and  came  back  to  meet  the  strangers 
face  to  face ;  with  a  little  cry  of  surprise  she 
recognised  one  of  them  and  hesitated. 


154  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"Kathy!"  The  speaker  was  pretty  and 
piquant :  she  held  up  her  hands  with  delight 
and  surprise.  " My  dear  Thing!  How  did 
you  arrive  here  ?  Don' t  you  know  me  ?  I  was 
Alice  Irvine,  and  went  to  Mrs.  Barrett's."  A 
little  dismay  took  hold  of  Katherine,  though 
her  face  lighted  up  with  pleasure.  "I  won- 
dered what  had  become  of  you,"  her  friend 
continued.  "  I  should  have  gone  to  your 
castle,  only  I  know  that  the  Ogre  didn't  allow 
visitors." 

"I  thought  you  were  in  India,"  Katherine 
said,  ' '  and  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you.  You  were 
the  only  friend  I  ever  had  except  Mrs.  Bar- 
rett," she  added  with  unconscious  pathos. 

"  We  were  in  India,  of  course,  but  we  went 
back  just  a  year  ago,  so  that  the  baby  might 
be  born  in  its  native  land — in  English  native 
land,  you  know.  It's  downstairs  with  the 
ayah.  And  this  is  George  ;  his  other  name  is 
Alford,  and  so  is  mine,  but  he's  much  nicer 
when  you  call  him  by  his  Christian  name.  I 
have  been  married  four  years." 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  155 

"  What  a  long  time  !  " 

"Well,  I  was  much  older  than  you,  dear. 
I  see  you  are  not  married  yet,"  and  she  looked 
down  at  Katherine's  ringless  finger.  "Now 
speak  to  George,  and  shake  hands — you  two." 

"  I  have  often  heard  of  you,  Miss  Kerr,"  he 
said,  doing  as  he  was  told.  "How  was  it  you 
never  wrote  to  us  ? " 

"Because  I  never  wrote  to  her,  she  lived  in 
a  castle  with  an  Ogre,"  his  wife  explained. 
"  What  has  become  of  him,  Kathy  ? " 

"He  has  gone  to  Australia  to  look  after 
some  grandchildren  who  have  turned  up." 

"  And  left  you  alone  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  Katherine  faintly,  wondering 
what  she  had  better  do.  She  could  not  ex- 
plain on  the  spot  that  she  was  running  away 
from  her  husband. 

"I  didn't  go  to  Woolwich  this  time,"  Mrs. 
Alford  went  on  ;  "  there  was  not  a  soul  I  knew 
left-  there,  and  I  saw  Mrs.  Barrett's  death  in 
the  paper,  so  I  didn't  go  to  Shooter's  Hill." 

"I  wonder  if  she  saw  my  marriage  in  the 


156  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

paper,"  Katherine  thought.  "  If  she  was  in 
India  she  probably  didn't.  Where  are  you 
going  % "  she  asked  aloud. 

"At  present,  my  dear,  we  are  going  to 
Genoa,  in  order  to  take  George's  mother  so 
far,"  and  Alice  nodded  at  the  knitter. 
"  She  looks  such  a  sweet  old  lady." 
"  We  came  to  England  on  her  account  as 
well  as  the  coming  baby's.  She  is  a  dear! 
But  she  is  delicate,  and  can't  get  about  much. 
When  we  had  to  go  to  Gibraltar,  she  went  with 
us ;  and  we  had  a  lovely  winter,"  she  sighed  in 
a  voice  of  deep  contentment.  "Now  we  are 
suddenly  sent  back  to  India — Heaven  knows 
why.  I  like  it,  of  course,  because  my  people 
are  there ;  but  George  is  sorry  to  leave  his 
mother,  though  he  has  a  brother  at  Lahore  to 
console  him.  We  are  to  pick  up  the  P.  and 
0.  at  Brindisi,  and  have  left  our  heavy  lug- 
gage to  go  by  it  from  Gibraltar.  Meanwhile, 
we  have  skipped  on  in  advance  in  this  little 
boat,  in  order  to  take  the  Mummy  as  far  as 
Genoa,  and  stay  a  week  with  her  there.     She 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  157 

is  on  her  road  to  summer  quarters — she  wants 
to  stay  abroad  another  six  months." 

"  All  alone  ? "  said  Katherine,  as  they  sat 
down  on  one  of  the  side  seats  to  continue  their 
talk.  Travelling  was  not  such  a  venturous 
thing,  after  all,  she  thought,  if  a  delicate  old 
lady  could  go  about  by  herself. 

"  Yes,  alas  !  That's  the  sad  part  of  it.  A 
niece  was  going  with  her,  but  she  broke  down 
at  the  last  moment,  married  a  man  who  looked 
like  a  nigger,  and  went  to  China  instead. 
Some  people  have  no  morality," 'she  added, 
as  her  husband  sauntered  back  to  them.  "I 
think  it  makes  them  more  amusing,  but  George 
would  be  shocked  if  I  said  it  before  him.  He's 
a  beautiful  dear,"  she  added,  looking  up  at  him 
saucily,  "but  he  is  the  properest  person  in  the 
world ;  so  is  his  mother,  so  is  Jim — the  most 
adorable  Jim." 

"Goose,"  said  her  husband.  "What  are 
you  talking  about  ? " 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said;  "I  never  do — 
it's  too  much  trouble.     Oh  !  I  was  saying  that 


158  A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

you  and  the  Mummy  and  Jim  are  all  three 
very  strait-laced,  and  that  a  little  crookedness 
would  be  rather  amusing.  But  I  only  say  it 
to  shock  you,  dear,"  and  she  made  a  face  at 
him,  "and  I  don't  know  in  the  least  how  it 
came  into  this  conversation." 

"I  think  they  are  in  love  with  each  other," 
Katherine  said  to  herself,  with  the  odd  sense 
of  witnessing  a  new  phase  of  human  nature. 
For  even  the  Oswells,  always  on  easy,  happy 
terms,  did  not  look  at  each  other  as  these  two 
people  did. 

"And  now,"  said  Alice  Alford,  picking  up 
the  thread  of  her  talk  with  difficulty,  "the 
Mummy  has  got  to  manage  her  summer 
alone  till  she  can  persuade  a  stray  rela- 
tion to  come  out  to  her.  That's  why  we 
are  taking  her  as  far  as  we  can  on  our  way, 
and  left  Gibraltar  sooner  than  we  should  have 
done." 

"  Why  don't  you  take  her  to  India  % " 

"  Her  health  won't  stand  it,  poor  darling ! 
or  she  would  like  it.     Her  other  boy  is  there. 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  159 

She  has  only  two  children — George  and  Jim  ; 
and  she  worships  Jim,  who  has  a  civil  appoint- 
ment out  in  Lahore.  She  is  miserable  because 
he  has  been  very  ill ;  but  he  is  getting  better, 
and  gone  to  Simla.  Simla  is  the  place  where 
all  lively  Indians  under  thirty  go  to  when  they 
die — if  their  ghosts  don't  care  to  come  home — 
not  that  Jim  is  going  to  die,  bless  him.  He  is 
only  twenty-seven,  and  as  handsome  as  he  is 
high,  which  is  five  foot  ten.  All  the  same,  I 
prefer  George  myself.  Now,  Kathy,  tell  me, 
where  are  you  going?  I  always  called  her 
Kathy,"  and  she  looked  up  at  her  husband 
again,  "because  there  is  something  austere 
about  Katherine — which  doesn't  suit  her. 
Come,  give  an  account  of  yourself.  You  have 
told  me  nothing  yet." 

"  You  haven't  given  her  a  chance,"  Mr. 
Alford  laughed,  and  sauntered  off  so  that  he 
might  not  interfere  with  confidences.  Then 
Katherine  explained  that  she  was  going  to 
Genoa,  and  that  she  did  not  know  what  she 

was  going  to  do  afterwards. 
11 


160  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"You  poor  thing!  Are  you  left  loose  on 
the  world  ?    And  are  you  rich  \ " 

"Yes,  I  am  left  loose  on  the  world,  and 
have  all  my  fortune  with  me." 

"Good  heavens!  Is  it  much?  We'll  rob 
you." 

"It's  a  little  more  than  two  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds." 

"Has  the  Ogre  cast  you  adrift  with  that 
noble  sum  ? " 

"He  hasn't  cast  me  adrift,"  Katherine 
answered;  "he'll  give  me  more  if  I  want  it." 

"And  why  have  you  left  Shooter's  Hill !  " 
Mrs.  Alford  asked.  "And  why  didn't  you  go 
to  Australia  with  the  Ogre  ? " 

"The  lease  of  the  house  ran  out,  and  the 
Ogre  did  not  want  to  take  me  to  Australia." 

"  I  see ;  so  he  gave  you  some  money  and 
left  you  to  look  after  yourself.  Well,  I  don't 
think  it's  proper  for  you  to  be  roving  about 
the  world  without  a  chaperon.  But  come  and 
look  at  the  *  Immortal ! '  it's  the  beautif ulest 
Immortal  that  ever  you  did  see." 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  l(Jl 

"You  seem  so  happy,"  Katherine  said, 
much  as  she  had  once  said  to  Mrs.  Oswell. 

"  Happy  ? "  her  friend  answered,  with  more 
gravity  than  she  had  displayed  before.  "I 
should  think  so  !  Why,  I'm  married  to  the 
dearest  boy  on  earth,  and  have  the  sweetest 
baby,  and  a  grey-haired  angel  for  a  mother- 
in-law,  and  all  the  other  belongings  are  perr 
fection.  Heaven  will  be  thrown  away  on  me 
when  I  get  to  it.  I  have  everything  I  want  in 
this  world,"  and  she  gave  a  sigh  of  content. 
"  Don't  you  think  George  is  very  handsome  \ " 

"  Very,"  Katherine  said,  with  a  laugh  in 
her  blue  eyes. 

"He's  just  the  sweetest,  beautifulest  old 
darling  in  the  world,"  his  wife  remarked,  with 
extreme  satisfaction.  "I  think  I  know  all 
about  you,  Kathy,  dear,"  she  went  on.  "The 
Ogre  has  deserted  you ;  given  you  some  money 
and  left  you  to  look  after  yourself.  You  can't 
be  very  happy,  I'm  afraid." 

"Not  very,  perhaps,"  Katherine  answered 
gently.     "I   feel    like    a    waif.     But  it  is    a 


162  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

beautiful  world,"  she  added,  "and  I  like 
going  about  looking  at  it.  I  always  feel 
as  if  it  were  my  own  big  estate — it  is  as 
much  mine  as  anyone  else's — and  I'm  so  proud 
of  it !  " 

"  What  a  funny  idea!"  Mrs.  Alford  said. 
"But  you  always  had  funny  ideas.  Do  you 
remember  the  crane,  and  how  you  used  to 
think  that  Anne  Boleyn  danced  with  her  head 
in  her  pocket  ?  "  And  then  they  laughed  and 
went  to  see  the  Immortal.  It  was  a  soft  little 
thing,  with  yellow  hair  and  blinking  blue 
eyes.  Katherine  stooped  and  kissed  it,  and 
looked  at  it  curiously. 

"  May  I  hold  it  for  a  moment  1 "  she  asked, 
and  took  it  in  her  arms,  and  felt  afraid  and 
like  a  stranger  in  the  world,  unused  to  ordi- 
nary human  experiences.  "What  a  wonderful 
thing  it  must  be  to  have  a  little  child  of  one's 
very  own ! "  she  said.  "  Only  I  think  one 
ought  to  love — to  love  its  father  very 
much." 

"Why,    of    course,"    Alice    said,    staring 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  163 

at  her.       "  If  you  didn't,   it  would  be  hor- 
rible." 

"  She's  awfully  lovely,  darling,"  George 
Alford  said  to  his  wife  that  evening.  "Her 
face  is  like  a  lily  on  a  long  stalk,  and  there's 
something  fascinating  about  her.  She  ought 
not  to  be  going  about  by  herself." 

"She  says  she  is  a  waif,  and  going  to  live 
at  some  little  Italian  place." 

"  She  and  the  mother  had  better  join  on." 

Then  Mrs.  Alford  clapped  her  hands. 
"  George,"  she  said, "  you  are  a  wonder !  You 
always  think  brilliantly,  even  by  chance. 
Why  shouldn't  she  and  the  mother  really  join 
on  ?  It  would  be  a  comfort.  Let  us  stick  to 
Katherine  and  make  the  mother  take  a  liking 
to  her.     It  will  simplify  matters  beautifully." 

Before  they  reached  Genoa  Katherine  was 
as  intimate  with  the  Alfords  as  though  she 
had  seen  them  constantly  all  her  life;  but  it 
was  they  who  did  most  of  the  talking,  for  she 
was  naturally  reserved,  and  her  position  made 


164  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

her  more  so,  though  in  her  heart  she  said 
many  things  to  them  of  which  her  lips  were 
silent.  Had  Alice  not  been  married  she  would 
have  probably  told  her  everything  ;  as  it  was, 
that  lady's  chance  remark  about  the  Alfords' 
love  of  propriety,  for  one  thing,  prevented  it. 
Besides,  the  life  behind  her  was  finished ;  she 
could  no  more  speak  of  it  than  she  could  open 
a  grave  and  hold  up  the  dead  within.  She  did 
not  feel  that  she  had  committed  a  crime  in 
what  she  had  done,  but  rather  that  she  was 
justified.  Her  marriage  had  been  a  mere 
mockery  of  one  with  a  man  of  whom  she  could 
not  think  without  a  shudder.  Thank  God,  she 
had  left  him  !  She  looked  forward,  and  not 
behind,  feeling  that  with  every  hour  that 
passed  she  was  journeying  towards  life  and 
love  and  freedom :  already  she  was  tasting 
their  sweetness.  She  was  almost  happy — for 
she  chased  away  every  disturbing  memory — 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life. 

She  delighted   in  the  Alfords,   in  Alice's 
ceaseless  chatter  and  George's  slow  and  in- 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  165 

dulgent  tones,  in  the  little  soft  Immortal,  and 
above  all  in  the  old  lady.  She  had  never 
known  a  beautiful  old  lady  before.  She  liked 
to  look  at  her  face  and  watch  her  little  stately 
manners  that  were  so  lovable,  yet  that  would 
somehow  make  it  impossible,  Katherine  felt  it 
even  then,  to  give  her  a  difficult  confidence. 
She  liked  to  sit  by  her  and  watch  her  knit,  and 
hear  her  talk  of  her  other  boy  in  India,  the 
"  adorable  Jim,"  as  Alice  called  him,  and  to 
wTait  upon  her  with  those  little  services  that  a 
girl  finds  it  so  sweet  to  pay  to  one  who  is  old 
and  picturesque. 

"I  wish  you  would  go  with  her  somewhere, 
Kathy  dear,"  Alice  said;  ushe  is  all  alone 
in  Europe ;  don't  you  think  you  could  join 
your  plans  to  hers  1 " 

"I  should  like  it,"  Katherine  answered. 
"  She's  so  beautiful  with  her  white  hair  and 
stately  figure ;  but  I  can't  think  that  she 
would  care  to  have  me  with  her." 

"My  dear,  she  has  taken  an  enormous 
fancy  to  you,"  Alice  answered  decisively. 


166  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"  But  she  knows  so  little  of  me." 

"But  I  know  so  much,  and  I've  told  her 
everything  about  you.  She  says  you  look  so 
good,  and  altogether  has  taken  a  violent  fancy 
to  you.  Goodness  goes  a  long  way  with  her, 
she  and  George — oh!  and  with  dear  old  Jim, 
too,  out  in  Lahore." 

"Alice,  I  can't "  she  began,  but  George 

Alford  appeared. 

"George,  she's  rather  refractory,"  Mrs. 
Alford  said.  "  Come  and  tell  her  she  must  do 
as  she's  told,  and  that  it  is  strictly  improper  of 
her  to  be  going  about  the  world  alone." 

"Miss  Kerr,"  the  old  lady  said  that  even- 
ing, "my  children  tell  me  that  you  will  be  con- 
tent to  join  your  plans  with  mine  for  the  sum- 
mer?" 

"If  you  care  to  have  me,"  Katherine  an- 
swered meekly,  feeling  like  an  impostor,  but 
resolutely  putting  the  feeling  from  her.  And 
so  it  was  settled.  They  stayed  at  Genoa  till 
the  George  Alfords  went  on  to  Brindisi  to  meet 
their  P.  and  O. 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  167 

Mrs.  Alford  turned  to  Katherine  as  her  chil- 
dren disappeared.  "My  dear,"  she  said,  "I 
am  glad  they  have  left  me  you,  for  I  feel  that 
we  shall  love  each  other."  The  tears  came  into 
Katherine's  eyes  so  that  she  could  not  speak, 
but  the  old  lady  saw  her  face  and  was  satisfied. 


CHAPTER  X. 

In  the  year  that  Katherine  journeyed  to- 
wards it,  no  horrible  railway  spoilt  Generoso, 
it  was  merely  a  beautiful  mountain  in  Italian 
Switzerland,  with  a  good  but  simple  hotel  half 
an  hour  from  the  summit,  and  a  farm  and  a 
few  scattered  dwellings  for  the  peasants  and 
goatherds.  The  hotel  was  whitewashed  out- 
side, the  lizards  ran  over  it  in  the  sunshine. 
There  was  a  little  flight  of  stone  steps  leading 
up  to  the  entrance,  over  which  hung  the  great 
bell  that  clanged  to  announce  an  arrival.  In 
front  was  a  plateau  that  formed  some  sort  of 
garden,  and  had  a  summer-house  at  either  cor- 
ner. But  it  is  too  well  known,  too  well  remem- 
bered as  it  was  before  the  "improvements" 
came,  to  make  description  necessary.      Kath- 

(168) 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  169 

erine  and  Mrs.  Alford  went  up  from  Mendresio 
after  staying  at  the  Italian  lakes  in  late  June. 
It  was  a  little  early  and  chilly  for  a  mountain- 
place  ;  but  the  old  lady  took  a  sitting-room 
with  a  fireplace — the  only  one  on  that  floor — 
and  when  the  clouds  hung  about  and  no  sun- 
shine came  to  lift  them  into  heaven  or  to  carry 
them  down  to  the  valley,  they  sat  and  warmed 
themselves  by  the  crackling  wood.  Then  it 
was  that  they  talked  of  India ;  of  Alice  and 
her  husband,  who  were  at  Bombay  ;  and  of  the 
Immortal,  who  was  growing  more  beautiful 
every  hour,  so  the  weekly  letter  told  them ; 
and  of  Jim,  who  was  slowly  getting  better.  It 
seemed  to  Katherine  that  though  she  had  never 
seen  him  that  she  knew  Jim  best  of  all,  for  his 
mother  loved  him  best,  and  never  tired  of  talk- 
ing about  him. 

There  were  but  a  few  people  at  the  hotel  at 
first,  but  as  the  days  wore  on  more  and  more 
arrived.  Katherine  used  to  watch  for  them, 
and  think  how  good  it  was  to  see  them  coming 
up  from  the  plains  below,  happy  in  their  holi- 


170  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

day  time ;  or  seeking  health  on  the  beautiful 
mountain- top,  with  hope  written  on  their  faces. 
For  many  invalids  came  round  the  winding 
pathway :  overworked  men  and  delicate  wom- 
en ;  and  some  who  were  like  to  die  but  did  not 
know  it. 

It  was  mid-August.  The  world  was  full  of 
summer  and  drowsy  happiness :  a  deep  blue 
sky  was  overhead.  The  hotel  was  nearly  full ; 
but  Mrs.  Alford  and  Katherine  kept  to  them- 
selves, and  were  wholly  satisfied  with  each 
other. 

"I  do  not  want  to  talk  to  these  strangers," 
the  old  lady  said.  "You  never  know  who 
people  are  in  hotels,  nor  what  burden  one  may 
be  taking  on  one's  self  with  new  acquaintance. 
I  am  very  shy  of  making  any." 

"  You  trusted  me "  Katherine  began. 

"But  Alice  had  known  you  so  long,  my 
dear.  And  then  I  loved  your  face.  I  felt  that 
you  were  good,  and  goodness  is  an  old-fash- 
ioned virtue  that  appeals  to  me." 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  171 

"I'm  not  good,"  she  answered,  "but  I  want 
to  be,  and  I  will  be  if  I  can." 

"I  remember  once  having  a  terrible  lesson," 
Mrs.  Alford  went  on.  "  It  was  when  my  dear 
sister  and  I  were  in  San  Remo  some  years  ago 
— the  year  the  boys  first  went  to  India — we 
made  acquaintance  with  a  Mrs.  Simpson.  Such 
a  pretty  woman,  with  a  little  boy  of  six  to 
whom  she  was  devoted.  We  thought  she  was 
a  widow,  but  it  turned  out  that  she  had  run 
away  from  her  husband " 

"  Perhaps  her  husband  had  ill-treated 
her?" 

"That  would  be  no  excuse,  my  dear.  A 
woman  must  stay  with  him  even  if  he  ill-treats 
her,  just  as  she  must  put  up  with  her  life  even 
if  it  is  full  of  pain.  She  has  no  business  to  run 
away  from  the  one  nor  to  dispose  of  the  other." 

"  Suppose  a  girl  were  made  to  marry  a  man 
she  disliked  3 " 

"It  isn't  done  in  these  days,"  the  old  lady 
said,  shaking  her  head. 

"But  if  she  did  marry  him ? " 


172  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

"Then  she  must  keep  to  it,"  the  old  lady- 
said.  "It  is  part  of  a  woman's  duty  to  prove 
that  marriage  is  sacred  and  binding,  and  every- 
thing she  does  to  weaken  it  she  does  to  the  dis- 
advantage of  her  whole  sex." 

"  But  if  the  man  doesn't  love  her  1 " 

"  She  should  try  to  win  him,  or  bear  her  lot 
in  patience." 

Then  Katherine  thought — "  You  must  never 
know  ;  I  must  never  tell  you."  And  the  desire 
to  do  so  passed  out  of  her  heart.  "There  are 
many  ways  of  looking  at  the  same  things,  and 
each  may  be  a  right  one,  but  the  person  who 
sees  from  one  point  cannot  sometimes  see  from 
another,"  she  thought  as  she  looked  up  to 
watch  the  lizards  running  up  the  house  in  the 
sunshine. 

"Katherine,  do  you  never  get  any  letters?" 
Mrs.  Alford  asked. 

"No,"  Katherine  answered,  "my  uncle  is 
in  Australia.  There  is  an  old  servant,  but  she 
does  not  even  know  where  I  am."  She  gave  a 
long  sigh,  for  she  often  wondered  how  Susan 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  173 

was,  and  whether  Mr.  Belcher  had  sought  her 
there. 

u  You  must  be  very  lonely,  dear  child  ? " 

"I  have  been,  but  I  like  it,"  Katherine  an- 
swered. "I  like  being  with  you,  but  I  don't 
want  to  be  with  anyone  else,  and  when  you 
go  back  to  England  I  shall  stay  somewhere 
alone  and  out  of  it." 

"  I  hope  one  day  you  will  marry,"  Mrs.  Al- 
ford  said  tenderly.  "Then  perhaps  you  will 
be  very  happy." 

"Oh,  no!"  Katherine  answered  shudder- 
ingly.  "I  know  people  are  happy — I  have 
seen  them.  Alice  and  George  are.  But  mar- 
riage is  a  terrible  thing :  it  is  for  one's  whole 
life." 

"  Some  day,  if  you  love  anyone  very  much," 
Mrs.  Alford  answered  sadly,  "you  will  think 
how  short  a  time  that  is,  and  pray  that  it  may 
be  for  a  whole  eternity  too." 

A  still  and  sultry  afternoon.  Mrs.  Alford 
was  writing  letters  by  herself.     Katherine  was 


174  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

leaning  out  of  her  bed-room  window — a  narrow 
slip  of  a  room,  looking  towards  the  south  and 
the  plains  of  Lombardy.  From  it  she  could 
see  two  or  three  turnings  of  the  pathway  by 
which  the  people  came  up  from  Mendresio. 
They  walked  up  in  those  days,  or  rode  on 
mules,  or  were  carried  in  chairs  by  perspiring 
porters ;  and  the  great  bell  rang  when  they 
were  seen  on  the  last  turn  of  the  pathway  be- 
fore they  reached  the  plateau.  Katherine  used 
to  look  down  from  her  window  and  watch  them 
come  towards  the  little  double  flight  of  stone 
steps  before  the  door,  while  the  landlord  hur- 
ried out  to  welcome  them  and  the  mules  were 
unloaded.  Once  she  thought  how  terrible  it 
would  be  to  see  anyone  arrive  who  had  known 
her  formerly,  and  for  one  moment  the  thought 
paralysed  her ;  then  she  remembered  that  Mr. 
Belcher  did  not  travel,  and  that  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Oswell  were  certain  to  be  in  England,  so  she 
put  aside  her  fear  and  gave  herself  up  to  the 
glorious  summer  and  all  it  had  brought  her. 
She  was  so  happy,  so  full  through  and  through 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  175 

of  sweet  content.  She  was  living  the  natural 
life  of  a  girl  who  is  with  her  mother :  she  was 
loved  and  cared  for  and  spoken  to  with  caress- 
ing words  for  the  first  time  in  her  life ;  she 
drank  in  joy  every  moment  of  her  life  and 
wished  that  she  could  live  it  over  and  over 
again. 

She  looked  across  to  Lombardy,  thinking 
that  she  ought  to  have  made  a  sketch  that 
morning  for  Mrs.  Alford  to  enclose  in  a  letter 
to  India,  and  a  little  bit  of  white,  low  down  in 
the  distance,  caught  her  eye.  It  was  the  white 
linen  cap  of  a  stranger  who  was  coming  up  the 
pathway.  He  was  twenty  minutes  off  yet,  and 
she  knew  that  he  would  be  out  of  sight  again 
in  a  moment.  She  reached  down  the  opera- 
glass  the  Alfords  had  given  her  at  Genoa  and 
looked  at  him.  He  was  on  foot,  but  a  mule 
carried  his  luggage,  and  the  mule-driver  lagged 
behind.  She  could  tell  that  the  stranger  was 
a  tall  man.  He  wore  tweed  clothes,  and  a 
glass  was  slung  across  his  shoulder.     She  did 

not  see  his  face;  he  kept  it  turned  towards  the 

12 


176  A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

plain  till  he  was  lost  among  the  fir-trees,  and 
she  knew  that  a  good  ten  minutes  must  pass 
before  he  emerged  from  them  on  the  pathway 
higher  up.  And  then  she  remembered  the 
woman  ill  with  consumption  in  the  next  room 
but  one  to  hers,  who  had  said  by  accident  one 
day  that  she  had  left  off  having  afternoon  tea 
because  it  mounted  up  her  bill.  Katherine 
guessed  that  she  was  poor  from  the  tone  in 
which  she  said  it,  though  she  tried  to  make 
it  disagreeable  in  order  to  disguise  her  pov- 
erty. Ever  since  at  four  o'clock  she  had 
made  some  tea,  using  Mrs.  Alford's  tea-bas- 
ket, which  she  had  borrowed,  and  some  tea 
she  had  bought  herself  at  Genoa  after  finding 
how  bad  can  be  the  mixture  that  goes  by  the 
name  of  tea  on  board  ship.  She  rang  for  the 
milk  and  lighted  the  spirit-lamp  to  boil  the 
water.  Then  she  thought  of  the  stranger 
coming  up  the  pathway,  and  went  back  to  the 
window.  He  was  just  by  the  nearer  turn.  She 
watched  him  for  full  two  minutes,  and  made 
out    that    he    was    young  and  good-looking. 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  177 

"  Five  minutes  more  and  he  will  be  here,"  she 
said  to  herself,  and  went  on  with  her  tea-mak- 
ing. She  carried  a  cup  to  Mrs.  Alford  at  the 
end  of  the  corridor,  and  poured  out  one  for  the 
consumptive  woman,  and  as  she  did  so  there 
was  the  clang,  clang,  of  the  arrival  bell.  She 
went  to  the  window  and  looked  out.  The 
stranger  was  crossing  the  plateau  that  had  a 
summer-house  at  either  corner.  She  turned 
away  and  knocked  at  the  door  of  Miss  Ben- 
nett's room. 

" Come  in!" 

"I've  brought  you  some  tea." 

"Oh  !  thank  you,"  the  woman  said  sourly, 
"but  I'm  not  sure  that  it  agrees  with  me." 
She  got  up  from  the  sofa  on  which  she  had 
been  lying.  "It's  very  good  of  you  to  take  so 
much  trouble,"  she  said,  as  though  she  was 
half  bored  by  it.  But  she  took  the  tea  in  her 
thin  hands  and  gulped  it  down  eagerly. 

u  I  will  come  for  the  cup  in  a  few  minutes," 
Katherine  said,  and  hurried  to  her  own  room. 
Walking  straight  to  the   window  she  looked 


178  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

out.  The  stranger  had  just  arrived.  She 
looked  down,  trying  to  see  his  face,  not  expect- 
ing that  he  would  see  her.  But,  as  though  he 
had  known  that  she  was  there,  he  raised  his 
head,  and  they  took  a  long  look  at  each  other. 
She  knew  him  directly  ;  she  had  often  seen  his 
photograph.     It  was  Jim  Alford. 


CHAPTER  XL 

Katherine  heard  him  come  up  the  cocoa- 
nut-covered  stairs  and  go  along  the  corridor ; 
someone  was  showing  him  the  way.  She 
listened  to  his  footsteps,  and  imagined  his 
face.  He  stopped  at  the  end  of  the  corridor, 
knocked,  and  called  "  Mother."  Then  she 
knew  for  a  certainty  that  she  was  right. 

Mrs.  Alford  opened  the  door  quickly  and 
fell  into  her  son's  arms.  uOh,  my  dear,"  she 
said, "  this  is  a  surprise." 

"I  thought  you  would  say  so,"  he  laughed. 
"I  told  them  not  to  tell  you  that  I  was  com- 
ing, I  wanted  to  drop  down  upon  you  un- 
awares." 

uMy  dear,  oh,  my  dear,  my  dear!"  she 
said  again  as  she  pulled  him  into  the  room  and 

(179) 


180  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

pushed  him  gently  into  one  of  the  velvet- 
covered  chairs  with  arms,  beside  the  window, 
"is  it  really  you?" 

"  Yes— at  least  it  seems  like  it." 

"And  are  you  better?"  she  asked,  looking 
at  him  as  though  she  could  hardly  believe  that 
she  was  awake. 

"Oh!  I'm  all  right,"  he  answered  a  little 
uneasily,  "though  I  have  been  pretty  well  rid- 
dled with  fever,  I  can  tell  you.  However,  it 
has  got  me  six  months'  leave,  so  I  oughtn't  to 
grumble.  Six  months,  Mummy  !  think  of  that 
and  sing  a  psalm.  We  can  go  to  Jericho  to- 
gether if  we  like." 

"We'll  go  to  England,  my  son,  and  that 
will  be  better.  Tell  me  about  your  illness,  and 
how  you  managed  the  journey." 

"Not  much  to  tell,"  he  said  cheerily.  "I 
fell  sick  and  was  like  to  die  ;  managed  with 
some  diplomacy  and  a  good  many  certificates 
to  get  leave.  Went  by  easy  stages  to  Bombay, 
took  ship  and  sailed  to  Brindisi,  crawled  along 
here.     That's  all.     George  and  Alice  send  their 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  igl 

love  ;  the  baby's  a  bouncer,  and  more  beauti- 
ful than  ever,  so  they'll  tell  you.  Spent  a  day 
with  them  all  in  Bombay.  What  have  you 
done  with  the  pretty  girl  they  found  for  you — 
is  she  here  still?    Alice's  friend,  I  mean." 

"  Yes,  she's  here, — and  will  be  so  glad  to 
see  you,  my  dear." 

"  Oh  !  will  she  I  That's  your  idea,  Mummy; 
If  she's  the  one  who  put  her  head  out  of  win- 
dow as  I  arrived,  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  her. 
How  long  is  she  going  to  stay  with  you  1 " 

"Till  I  go  back  to  England  in  September, 
unless  you  want  me,  dear  boy,  to  go  anywhere 
with  you.  She's  so  good  and  unselfish,  that 
I'm  sure  she  would  give  me  up." 

"That's  all  right,  then.  Now  let  us  talk 
about  somebody  else.  I  was  so  sorry  about 
your  illness  last  winter,  nearly  came  home, 
with  or  without  leave."  He  took  his  mother's 
hands  and  kissed  them.  "Still  it  was  a  com- 
fort to  you,  wasn't  it,  having  George  and  Alice 
and  the  baby  %  By  Jove  !  what  a  fuss  people 
make  about  a  baby  when  they  have  one  for  the 


182  A  FLASH  OP  SUMMER. 

first  time.  It  is  such  a  pity  they  don't  begin 
with  twins ;  upon  my  word  I  think  it  would 
keep  them  quieter.  What  is  your  pretty  girl 
called — Kathy  something,  isn't  it  ? " 

"  Katherine  Kerr,"  the  old  lady  said  va- 
cantly, too  much  overjoyed  to  do  more  than 
look  at  him.  "  You  must  come  and  see  her. 
Oh,  wait,  I'll  call  her." 

"No  hurry,  Mummy  dear,"  he  said,  hold- 
ing her  back  affectionately.  "  It's  good 
enough  to  see  you." 

She  looked  at  him  long  and  fondly.  "  You 
are  handsomer  than  ever,"  she  said;  "but 
you  don't  look  well." 

"I  shall  soon,"  he  answered.  "I  believe 
you  are  more  beautiful  than  ever,  Mummy, 
since  we  are  paying  compliments.  What  sort 
of  people  are  staying  here  ? " 

"  I  haven't  looked  at  them.  You  see,  I 
have  Katherine." 

"  I  shall  call  her  Kathy." 

"  You  must  call  her  Miss  Kerr." 

"All  right,   Mummy,  I'll  mind  my  man- 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  183 

ners.  Look  here,  I  must  go  and  do  some  un- 
packing, and  then  we'll  have  a  long  talk  if  you 
like.  I  forget  what  number  the  beggar  said 
my  room  was,  but  it's  a  floor  lowrer  down,  and 
I  daresay  I  shall  find  it." 

"I'll  come  with  you  to  the  end  of  the 
corridor,  and  we  will  knock  at  Katherine's 
room.  I  want  her  to  know  how  happy  I  am," 
she  said  lovingly. 

Katherine  heard  their  footsteps  stop  by 
her  door,  and,  opening  it,  stood  facing 
them. 

"I  watched  you  coming  up,"  she  said. 
"  I'm  glad  you  are  here.  Mrs.  Alford  has  been 
so  anxious  about  you."  She  looked  at  Jim 
with  clear  blue  eyes  that  were  tender  enough 
when  they  turned  to  his  mother— it  proved 
their  capacity,  he  thought. 

"I  saw  you  leaning  out  of  the  window," 
he  said  merrily,  "and  guessed  it  was  you. 
Alice  was  always  talking  of  you,  and  George 
joined  in  the  chorus." 

"And  the  Immortal*" 


184  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"Only  cried.  No  doubt  he'll  do  better  by 
and  by.  I  hope  you  like  this  place,  Miss  Kerr ; 
it  is  very  kind  of  you  to  take  care  of  the  Mum- 
my. She  wants  someone  to  look  after  her." 
He  put  his  arm  round  Mrs.  Alford's  shoulder 
as  they  walked  away. 

"  You  must  take  him  some  walks,  my  dear," 
the  old  lady  said,  looking  back.  "She  has 
had  to  go  alone,  poor  thing,"  she  continued  to 
her  son  as  they  went  down  stairs.  "For  I  am 
not  able  to  do  much ;  I  was  never  a  good 
walker,  you  know." 

"You  weren't  bad,   not    what   we  call   a 

strider,  but "    Then  their  voices  were  lost 

in  the  distance.  Katherine  went  back  to  her 
room,  and,  sitting  down  with  her  arms  folded, 
looked  out  into  space. 

"He's  very  handsome,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"He's  much  better  looking  than  George;  and 
how  fond  be  is  of  his  mother !  It  is  lovely  to 
see  them  together."  Then  just  because  her 
heart  was  light  and  hungered  to  take  a  little 
brightness  somewhere,  she  went  in  to  see  the 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  185 

consumptive  woman  again,  and  asked  if  she 
could  do  anything  for  her. 

" Would  you  like  me  to  read  aloud? — I 
often  read  to  Mrs.  Alford.  Perhaps  it  would 
help  you  to  go  to  sleep  sometimes,"  she  said 
humbly. 

"No,  thank  you.  I  never  heard  any  read- 
ing yet  that  satisfied  me,"  said  Miss  Bennett 
ungraciously. 

"I  can  understand  that,"  Katherine  an- 
swered. "I  read  some  Browning  to  myself  a 
little  while  ago,  but  could  not  imagine  a  living 
voice  that  would  do  him  justice." 

"  I  don't  like  Browning.  You  can  take  that 
volume  of  him  away,  if  you  like,"  Miss  Bennett 
said,  nodding  to  a  book  on  the  table.  "  I  don't 
want  it.     I  found  it  in  a  railway  carriage." 

"You  don't  want  it  ? " 

"I  am  not  well  enough  for  him.  He  did 
not  write  for  sick  and  tired  people.  Besides, 
I  dislike  poetry.  Prose  is  good  enough  for 
anything  worth  saying." 

"Oh  !  don't  say  that,"  Katherine  answered. 


186  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

"  Between  poetry  and  prose  there  is  the  same 
difference  that  there  is  between  speaking  and 
singing." 

"  And  speaking  is  better  than  singing,"  said 
the  woman,  "  unless  it  is  better  than  any  that 
I  ever  heard.  Poetry  is  never  good  enough, 
and  singing  is  never  good  enough.  Nothing  is 
good  enongh  in  the  world.  That  is  what  I  have 
found,"  she  added,  with  a  long,  weary  sigh  ; 
"but  I  started  expecting  too  much,  and  noth- 
ing has  satisfied  me." 

"I  expected  nothing,"  Katherine  answered, 
"and  started  knowing  of  nothing  to  expect, 
but  now  everything  seems  to  be  growing  more 
and  more  beautiful  as  I  journey  on ;  but  is 
there  nothing  I  can  do  for  you,  Miss  Bennett  ? " 

"Only  take  away  the  Browning,  and  those 
flowers.  Mrs.  Ball,  the  woman  with  the  thin 
husband,  brought  them.  I  dislike  flowers  near 
me  ;  it  disturbs  me  to  see  them  die." 

"I  never  thought  of  that,"  said  Katherine 
gently;  "I'll  arrange  them  in  my  room  and 
you  shall  come  and  see  them  only  while  they 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  187 

are  fresh.  It's  too  late  for  you  to  go  to  the 
Bella  Yista  to-night,  I  know,  but  I'll  come  and 
see  if  you  are  able  to  walk  there  in  the  morn- 
ing. Good-bye,  if  we  don't  meet  again— we  sit 
so  far  apart  at  dinner,  and  you  have  so  many 
friends  at  table  that  I  never  come  near  you 
down  stairs." 

"Not  friends,"  said  Miss  Bennett,  as  Kath- 
erine  was  going  out  of  the  door,  "  and  they  are 
only  kind  to  me  because " — she  waited  till  the 
door  was  shut — "they  think  I'm  going  to  die." 

Katherine  went  along  the  corridor  to  Mrs. 
Alford,  for  she  knew  that  Jim  was  still  down 
stairs.  The  old  lady  was  standing  up  tall  and 
stately,  as  she  always  looked  when  she  rose  to 
her  feet. 

"Just  one  moment  to  tell  you  how  glad  I 
am,"  the  girl  said  gently,  and  held  out  her 
hands.  "It  was  a  beautiful  surprise  for  you, 
and  I  don't  wonder  that  you  love  him  so 
much." 

"My  dear,  there  is  no  one  like  him  in  the 
world — like  him  and  my  other  boy  ;  but  Jim  is 


188  A  FLASH  OP  SUMMER. 

my  youngest  and  has  always  loved  me  most, 
and  I  am  so  proud  of  him."  Her  voice  was 
low  and  full  of  happiness.  She  took  Kath- 
erine  in  her  arms,  and  kissed  her  as  if  from 
thankfulness  to  the  day  for  its  portion  of  joy. 
"He's  the  strongest  man  I  ever  knew,  and  as 
tender  as  a  woman." 

"I  could  hear  it  in  his  voice,"  Katherine 
answered,  uand  I  am  so  glad  for  you — hush! 
he  is  coming.  I  will  go  away  till  dinner-time." 
She  hurried  softly  along  the  corridor  again, 
passing  Jim  on  her  way.  "Your  mother  is 
waiting  for  you,"  she  said,  and  turned  a  radi- 
ant face  to  him.  "You  will  have  two  hours 
together  before  the  dinner-bell  rings,"  and  she 
passed  on.  "  What  a  world  it  is  !  "  she  thought, 
as  she  entered  her  room  again;  "the  human 
beings  in  it  are  so  wonderful:  they  fill  one's 
heart."  She  sat  down  with  an  unaccountable 
happiness  possessing  her  to  think  of  the  blessed 
lines  on  which  her  lot  had  fallen. 

The  watch  on  the  table  beside  her — it  was 
the  one  that  Uncle   Robert  had  given  her — 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  139 

pointed  a  quarter  to  six  before  she  rose  from 
her  reverie.  "Dear  Uncle  Robert,"  she  said, 
as  she  noticed  the  time,  "I  wonder  if  you  have 
found  your  children.  I  wish  I  had  been  a  bet- 
ter companion  to  you  all  those  years,  but  I  was 
so  afraid  of  you,  for  pain  and  trouble  had  made 
you  stern.  Perhaps  some  day  I  shall  dare  to 
go  to  you."  She  brushed  out  her  hair  ;  it  was 
long  and  dark,  with  a  little  natural  curl  in  it 
that  made  it  fall  softly  on  her  forehead ;  she 
twisted  it  up  into  a  large  knot  behind,  as  the 
Greek  women  twisted  theirs  in  centuries  gone 
by,  and  fastened  into  her  waistband  a  little 
bunch  of  the  flowers  Miss  Bennett  had  de- 
spised. Then  she  went  back  to  the  sick  wom- 
an. "  Let  me  take  you  down,"  she  said,  u  Mrs. 
Alford  has  her  son,"  and  she  drew  Miss  Ben- 
nett's arm  through  hers. 

"You  can't  like  being  troubled  with  so 
helpless  a  creature,"  she  grumbled. 

"I  am  sorry — so  sorry  for  you,  but  I  am 
glad  to  be  near  you,  because  I  am  strong,  and 
one's    strength    is    like    one's    money,"    she 


190  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

laughed';  uto  be  handed  on — there's  such  a 
joy  in  spending  it."  She  took  Miss  Bennett  to 
her  place  at  the  far  end  of  the  table,  then  went 
to  her  own  by  Mrs.  Alford.  Jim  entered  five 
minutes  later  and  sat  down  on  the  other  side 
of  the  old  lady.  She  was  conscious  of  him 
every  moment ;  it  was  like  an  intoxication. 
She  heard  his  voice  each  time  he  spoke,  and 
knew  when  he  looked  her  way.  To  think  that 
he  was  going  to  stay  there  with  them,  every 
day,  perhaps  for  weeks  to  come,  seemed  the 
strangest  thing  on  earth. 

They  went  out  of  doors  after  dinner.  Kath- 
erine  tried  to  leave  the  mother  and  son  to- 
gether, but  he  came  swiftly  up  to  her  as  she 
was  taking  a  side  path  towards  the  farm. 

"My  mother  thinks  that  if  I  ask  you  very 
humbly  you  will,  perhaps,  take  me  to  the  Bella 
Vista,"  he  said. 

"  I  will  take  you  without  the  humility,"  she 
answered;  "but  would  you  not  like  to  stay 
with  her  this  first  evening  % " 

"  She  says  it  will  only  take  us  twenty  min- 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  191 

utes  to  get  there  and  back,  and  then  we  can 
drink  our  coffee  with  her." 

"Then  let  us  start,"  and  they  walked  on 
together. 

"She's  the  handsomest  girl  I've  seen  these 
five  years,"  Jim  Alford  said  to  himself. 
"Wonderful  expression  her  face  has — both 
brightness  and  sorrow  in  it." 

"How  long  are  you  going  to  stay?"  she 
asked. 

"I  have  six  months'  leave.  My  mother 
talks  of  remaining  here  for  a  bit ;  then  we  shall 
go  to  England.     When  are  you  going  home  ? " 

"I  have  no  home,"  she  answered  with  a 
strange  little  smile,  as  though  the  knowledge 
pleased  her. 

"I  know,"  he  answered;  "Alice  told  me. 
Your  belongings  consist  of  an  ogre  in  the  shape 
of  an  uncle — the  description  is  hers,  of  course, 
not  mine — who  went  to  Australia." 

"He  isn't  an  ogre,  though  he  did  go  to 
Australia,  and  I  am  fond  of  him." 

"Beg  pardon,"  he  laughed.      "I  daresay 

13 


192  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

he's  awfully  nice,  and  personally  I'm  rather  in- 
clined to  ogres,  though  he  isn't  one,  you  say. 
Are  you  going  to  stay  abroad  all  the  winter  ? " 

uYes,  all  the  winter." 

"  Where?" 

"I  don't  know  yet ;  I  never  look  forward." 

"  Better  not,"  he  said  with  a  gravity  that 
surprised  her.  "If  the  present  is  worth  any- 
thing it's  better  to  live  in  it.  You'll  think  me 
an  awful  duffer,  but  I  want  to  sit  down  on  that 
seat  there,  if  you  wouldn't  mind.  I  have  not 
been  through  with  my  fever  very  long,  and 
that  pull  up  to-day  was  rather  a  long  one." 
His  face  was  pale,  he  was  trembling  with  cold. 
"It's  nothing,"  he  said  presently,  with  a  shud- 
der ;  "the  plaguy  thing  comes  back  to  torment 
one  now  and  then." 

"  You  have  been  very  ill,  I  know,"  she  said 
anxiously. 

"HI!  Nobody  knew  how  bad  I  was.  I 
was  afraid  they  would  tell  the  poor  Mummy. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  bothered  about  getting 
the  leave  because  I  thought  I  should  never  see 


A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  193 

her  again.  But  the  voyage  did  wonders  for 
me,  and  I  daresay  this  place  will  set  me  up, 

and  the  Mummy  and "  he  was  going  to  say 

"  you,"  but  he  stopped,  and  said  "  all  of  it." 
He  looked  up  at  her  gratefully.  "It  was 
such  a  comfort  to  know  that  you  were  with 
her." 

"How  did  you  know?  You've  only  seen 
me  to-day." 

"I  know  everything  about  you,"  he  an- 
swered. "All  about  Shooter's  Hill,  and  the 
crane,  and  his  one  leg,  and  Eltham  Palace. 
There,  you  see,  I'm  quite  set  up  in  your 
history." 

"And  I  know  something  about  yours,  but 
not  much,"  she  answered;  "you  live  at  La- 
hore and " 

"  That's  enough  :  there  isn't  any  more,  ex- 
cept that  I  have  a  house  there  and  live  in  it  all 
by  myself." 

"You  ought  to  get  married,"  she  said 
simply. 

"Never    saw    anybody    yet  I  wanted    to 


194  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

spend  all  my  life  with.  Did  you  \  I  believe  I 
could  go  a  little  bit  farther,  if  you  like." 

"  Let  me  give  you  an  arm,"  she  said  with- 
out a  bit  of  coquetry. 

"  There's  something  awfully  straight  about 
this  girl,"  he  thought,  "and  she's  perfectly 
beautiful  to  look  at. — "  Thank  you,"  he  said  ; 
"  I  will,  if  I  can't  get  along.  I'm  all  right  at 
present.     Did  you  \ " 

"Didl-what?" 

11  Ever  see  anyone  you  wanted  to  spend  all 
your  life  with  I " 

"No,  never,"  she  answered  fervently, 
"  never,  but  I  think,"  she  added,  "  that  people 
are  very  good  and  kind.  I  have  felt  that  more 
than  anything  else  lately,"  she  added,  as  if  she 
spoke  from  conviction  rather  than  experience. 

"  Yes,  I'm  sure  they  are — uncommonly 
good  lot,  on  the  whole — a  few  exceptions,  of 
course." 

"  Oh,  yes;  there  are  exceptions,"  and  she 
shuddered. 

"Beastly  shame,"  he  thought:  "someone 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  195 

has  helped  her  to  find  that  out  already.  I 
should  like  to  know  who  it  was.  I'd  make 
things  a  bit  uneasy  for  him  or  her.  Hullo  ! — 
here  we  are  !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  they  came 
upon  the  view  at  Bella  Yista.  "By  George,  it 
is  splendid  !  I'd  no  idea  that  it  was  so  fine." 
They  stood  together,  looking  in  silence  on  the 
magnificence  that  had  suddenly  burst  upon 
them. 

"It  makes  one  thankful  for  life,  with  eyes 
to  see  and  ears  to  hear,"  she  said  ;  "  to  look  at 
it  even  once  is  compensation  for  years — that — 
that — have  been  different." 

"  You  speak  as  if  you  had  suffered  a  great 
deal." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have  suffered,"  she  answered, 
with  a  scared  look  in  her  eyes  that  came  and 
went  in  a  moment. 

"  I  expect  we  all  get  our  share.  It's  a  good 
thing,  I  suppose.  We  none  of  us  know  any- 
thing till  then,  or  understand  it,  at  any  rate." 

"That  is  the  pity  of  it,  but  don't  let  us  talk 
of  anything  but  happiness,"  she  said,  looking 


196  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

up  with  a  smile.  "  I  have  tried  so  hard  lately 
to  drive — the  rest  out  of  my  thoughts  :  and 
this  is  such  a  beautiful  day  for  your  mother, 
we  ought  to  help  her  celebrate  it.  Come,  let 
us  go  back,  the  coffee  will  be  ready." 

"I  wonder  if  we  could  ever  get  down  to 
that  lake,"  he  said,  taking  a  last  look  at  the 
view  ;  "  I  mean  to  Lugano." 

"  There  is  a  little  path  down,"  she  said. 
"  Not  the  one  you  came  up  by  to-day,  but  a 
lovelier  one.  I  went  half-way  down  it  the 
other  afternoon  while  your  mother  slept." 

"Let's  try  it  one  day,"  he  answered,  as  if 
they  were  old  friends,  and  it  was  a  matter  of 
course  that  they  should  explore  together.  "I 
say,  are  there  any  books  here,  at  the  hotel  ? " 

"  There  are  some  novels  in  the  library,"  she 
said,  as  they  took  their  way  back,  "and  I 
have  got  a  stray  volume  of  Browning  Lyrics." 

"  We'll  bring  it  out  next  time  we  come  this 
way  ;  it  will  fit  in  with  the  surroundings  pret- 
ty well.  But  it's  a  dangerous  book  for  two 
people  to  read  together." 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  197 

"  Dangerous  ? " 

"  Very,"  and  he  thought  how  blue  her  eyes 
were. 

"You  look  tired,  my  son,"  Mrs.  Alford 
said  as  they  entered  the  summer-house. 

"  Yes,  Mummy,"  he  answered;  "even  the 
happiest  day  one  has  known  for  years  wears 
one  out  a  little.  I  shall  be  stronger  in  a  month 
or  two,  especially  if  I'm  taken  walks,"  and  he 
looked  at  Katherine. 

"  I  shall  take  you  one  every  day,"  she  said 
with  a  little  smile,  and  left  them  together. 

"At  the  end  of  a  string,"  he  said.  "  That's 
a  wonderful  girl,  mother.  There  is  so  much  in 
her  face  ;  but  I  believe  she  has  been  ill-used  at 
some  time  or  other.  However,  she  seems  to  be 
sunning  herself  in  the  time  here." 

"She  never  says  so,  but  I  fancy  that  her 
uncle  must  have  ill-treated  her." 

"  Old  ruffian  !     I  daresay  he  did." 

They  went  to  Bella  Vista  again  the  next 
night,  and  up  to  the  summit  of  Generoso  two 
mornings  later  to  see  the  sunrise. 


198  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"It  is  such  a  comfort  to  me  that  you  are 
here,  my  dear,"  Mrs.  Alford  said  to  Katherine, 
"for  I  cannot  walk,  and  but  for  you,  there 
would  have  been  no  one  to  take  Jim  about." 

"And  he's  not  to  be  trusted  alone,  I  sup- 
pose I "  he  laughed. 

" No,"  said  Katherine,  "neither  am  I ;  that 
is  why  we  are  sent  together." 

The  rest  was  only  natural :  in  a  week  they 
were  greatest  friends,  in  a  month — the  hap- 
piest month  of  Katherine's  whole  life — they  set 
their  lives  entirely  by  the  wishes  of  each  other. 
He  was  not  strong,  but  he  had  wonderful 
spirits.  "Not  strong,  but  obstinate,  describes 
me,"  he  said  one  day.  "You  see,  it  is  difficult 
to  believe  that  up  here  Nature  could  do  one  a 
bad  turn,  and  I  never  feel  content  till  I  have 
walked  over  every  mile  possible  within  reach 
of  headquarters."  And  Katherine,  who  loved 
the  world — just  the  beautiful  world  itself — be- 
fore all  things,  or  had  till  lately,  usually  went 
with  him,  while  the  old  lady  looked  after  them 
and  rejoiced.     She  wanted  her  boy  to  marry — 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  199 

she  dreaded  his  going  out  to  Lahore  again, 
alone.  "  A  wife  would  take  care  of  him,"  she 
thought,  and  she  had  seen  no  one  she  liked  so 
well  as  Katherine.  Her  reserve,  her  belief  in 
the  world,  her  absolute  contentment  in  being 
cared  for,  her  delight  in  simple  pleasures,  and 
a  certain  courtesy  of  manner  that  distinguished 
her,  all  appealed  to  the  old  lady,  who  consid- 
ered the  girls  of  the  present  day  undignified 
or  frivolous. 

They  went  down  to  Lugano  on  foot  one 
morning,  and  searched  among  the  covered 
streets  for  curios,  and  lunched  at  the  hotel, 
and  took  the  train  back  to  Mendresio,  and  rode 
up  on  mules  to  Generoso  in  time  for  dinner — 
a  whole  day  to  themselves — while  Mrs.  Alford 
stayed  at  home  well  satisfied  to  think  of  them 
together,  or  tried  to  devise  means  by  which 
she  might  keep  Katherine  with  her  if  she  and 
Jim  did  not  fall  in  love  with  each  other. 

"  I  wish  you  would  come  to  England  with 
us,  my  dear,"  she  said  one  afternoon  ;  "  there 
is  room  for  you  at   the  little    house  at  Chil- 


200  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

worth,  and  I  shall  be  all  alone  when  he  goes 
back  to  India  in  January.  Couldn't  you  come 
with  me  ? "  Katherine  was  putting  on  her  hat, 
and  Mrs.  Alford  could  not  see  her  eyes,  but 
there  was  terror  in  her  voice  as  she  answered — 
"  I  can't  go  to  England,  dear  Mummy ; 
keep  me  till  the  last  moment  before  you  go, 
and  then  I  will  take  my  separate  way." 
"  You  are  so  young  to  be  alone." 
"I  know,  but  it  has  to  be."  She  turned 
and  faced  her.  "  I  read  a  story  book  once," 
she  said  suddenly;  "in  it  was  a  description  of 
how  lives  were  given  out  for  people  to  live. 
They  were  done  up  in  packets  and  all  mixed 
up  by  the  hand  of  Fate.  As  the  people  were 
born  one  by  one  into  the  world  Fate  handed 
them  a  packet,  and  in  it  was  the  life  they  had 
to  live.  They  never  knew  what  was  going  to 
happen  to  them  except  in  that  first  moment 
which  they  could  not  remember.  But  each 
one's  life  for  good  or  ill  was  in  his  heart,  and 
he  had  to  live  it.  You  are  going  home  with 
your  son,  dear  Mummy,  and  I  am  going  on." 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  201 

"Where?" 

"I  don't  know  yet :  but  I  shall  soon.  " 

"My  child,  it  may  be  that  you  are  to  come 
to  England,  though  you  do  not  know  it." 

"  Oh,  no,"  and  she  turned  away  again. 

"Katherine,"  the  old  lady  said,  trying  to 
see  what  lay  behind  the  troubled  blue  eyes, 
"  I  do  not  know  what  your  life  was  there,  but 
I  think  you  were  very  unhappy." 

"Yes,"  and  she  nodded  her  head,  "I  was 
very  unhappy.  I  never  had  any  happiness  at 
all,  save  that  which  the  beauty  of  the  world 
gave  me,  till  I  left  England,  and  saw  you  that 
day  on  board  ship.  Here  is  Jim" — for  they 
had  soon  learnt  to  call  each  other  by  Christian 
names.  "  You  see,  you  and  Alice  were  school- 
fellows," Jim  had  explained,  "and  that  is  one 
reason  why  we  should  not  treat  each  other 
with  any  respect ;  and  then  we  are  not  in  Lon- 
don, and  we  both  like  the  Mummy,  and  lastly 
it's  such  a  bore  to  be  Miss  Kerr-ing  and  Mr. 
Alford-ing  each  other,  and  we  never  do  it  be- 
hind each  other's  backs."    Her  face  lighted  up 


202  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

as  he  entered,  and  with  a  sigh  of  relief  she 
chased  away  her  memories. 

"  You  and  Mummy  appeared  to  be  having 
an  argument  when  I  entered,"  he  said,  as  they 
went  on  their  way  to  the  farm.  "  What  was  it 
about  ? " 

"We  were  talking  of  the  end  of  Sep- 
tember." 

"  Leave  the  future  alone,"  he  answered. 
"  I  believe  in  taking  the  portion  dealt  out  for 
the  day  and  getting  all  the  good  one  can  out 
of  it." 

"  Sometimes  one  is  forced  to  think  about 
it  against  one's  will,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  before  he 
answered.  She  wore  a  white  dress  and  a  big 
white  hat.  She  looked  tall  and  slim  and  very 
young  ;  but  there  was  a  womanly  sedateness 
about  her  that  was  very  restful.  He  could  im- 
agine her  living  a  simple  country  life,  busy 
with  domestic  affairs,  and  finding  intellectual 
employment  enough  for  herself  when  they 
were  done.      "  She  would  look  uncommonly 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  203 

well,"  he  thought,  "at  the  head  of  a  table,  or 
riding.  By  Jove !  how  she  would  like  the  early 
morning  Indian  rides — awfully  proud  a  man 
would  be  of  her,  too."  He  thought  of  his 
house  in  Lahore  and  the  stillness  that  filled  it 
now,  and  the  courage  it  would  take  to  break  in 
upon  it  alone. 

u  That  is  true,  I  have  thought  of  it  a  great 
deal  lately,  though  as  a  rule  I  try  to  avoid  it. 
I  like  my  work,"  he  added,  "  in  India  and  La- 
hore. I  have  had  such  good  days  there.  If 
the  Mummy  keeps  well  and  fever  deserts  me,  I 
should  like  the  future  to  be  like  the  past- 
plus  one.    And  you  ? " 

"  I  want  it  to  be  quite  different  from  my 
past,"  she  said  quickly.  "It  will  be.  I  am 
going  on  to  places  I  have  never  seen  and  to 
people  I  do  not  know. 

"  But  have  you  left  no  people  you  care  for 
behind  ? " 

"There's  Uncle  Robert,  but  he  is  in  Aus- 
tralia ;  and  Susan,  she  has  her  own  people  ; 
and  Mrs.  Oswell,  she  has  her  husband.     There 


204  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

are  no  others — no  others  in  the  world  except 
the  Mummy  and  you,  and  Alice  and  her  hus- 
band, and  the  Immortal." 

"  Couldn't  you  pull  me  out  of  that  little 
crowd  and  give  me  a  place  to  myself  ?  " 

"  It  might  be  a  bad  place." 

"  Anything  is  better  than  a  crowd.  But,  I 
say,  do  you  mean  always  to  be  by  yourself? 
You  know,  some  day  you  might  want  to  get 
married." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  never,  never  !  " 

"  Well,  that's  encouraging,"  he  thought,  and 
they  went  on  for  a  few  minutes  in  silence.  The 
pathway  to  the  farm  was  defined  by  a  primitive 
railing,  only  wide  enough  for  one  person  to 
walk  along  it,  yet  somehow  they  managed  to 
walk  two  abreast.  They  sat  on  three-legged 
stools  at  the  farm,  and  drank  milk  out  of  little 
bowls,  while  the  bottle  that  Katherine  had  car- 
ried in  a  straw  basket  on  her  arm  was  filled  for 
the  benefit  of  Mrs.  Alford  and  Miss  Bennett, 
who  considered  that  tea-making  was  the  event 
of  the  afternoon. 


A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  205 

"We  must  come  here  on  Sunday,"  Jim 
said  as  they  went  back.  "The  goatherds  and 
the  milkmaids  dance  in  the  evening.  We 
will  come  and  look  on ;  it  will  be  another 
memory." 

"Yes." 

He  drew  her  hand  through  his  arm.  A 
sudden  remembrance  of  Mr.  Belcher  made 
her  shudder. 

"  This  rath  way  is  constructed  for  people  to 
walk  so,"  he  said.  "It  is  better  than  going 
separately,  especially  when  you  don't  want  to 
talk  ;  and  we  are  not  in  a  very  chattering  hu- 
mour this  afternoon." 

"  Sometimes  one  lives  more  keenly  in 
silence." 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  Kathy  % " 

"  I  was  thinking,"  she  said,  "  that,  even  if 
it  means  pain  and  bitterness,  or  being  very 
lonely,  we  should  still  be  very  thankful  for 
our  turn  of  human  life.  It  would  have  been 
much  worse  to  be  a  stone  or  a  star  instead  of  a 
human  being." 


206  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"  You  are  a  queer  girl,"  he  answered.  "  I 
wonder  if  you  know " 

She  drew  away  the  hand  he  had  taken. 
"  I  don't  know  anything,"  she  said,  "  and  here 
we  are  back  again." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

September  was  creeping  into  the  autumn. 
The  darkness  gathered  more  and  more  into 
the  nights,  and  the  days  were  growing 
chilly. 

"What  a  happy  summer  it  has  been!" 
Katherine  said  to  herself  with  a  long  sigh  as 
she  watched  the  sunset.  u  If  it  would  only 
never  come  to  an  end  !  I  wonder  if  the  Mum- 
my dreams  how  happy  she  has  made  me." 
But  it  was  of  Jim  she  thought.  The  whole 
world  had  changed  since  he  came,  and  a  sense 
of  quick  life  that  sometimes  made  her  stand 
still  for  joy  was  in  her  heart.  He  and  she  re- 
membered so  much  now — books  they  had  read 
and  sketches  they  had  made,  long  saunterings 
in  the  sunshine  and  the  twilight,  and  talks  of 

14  (207) 


208  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

many  things  in  which  each  listened  eagerly  to 
hear  the  other's  view  concerning  them. 

But  the  summer  was  nearly  over. 

"  We  ought  to  be  getting  to  the  plains," 
Jim  said  to  his  mother  one  night  while  they 
sat  over  the  wood  fire.  Katherine  was  not 
with  them  then.  It  had  seemed  lately  as  if 
she  preferred  to  spend  her  evenings  alone.  He 
looked  at  the  clock  once  or  twice,  and  towards 
the  door  as  a  footstep  came  along  the  corridor ; 
but  he  turned  away  when  it  passed  on.  "I 
wonder  what  Kathy  is  doing  ?  "  he  said  at  last. 

' '  I  think  she  likes  to  go  and  see  Miss  Ben- 
nett." 

u  I  daresay;  it  appears  to  me  that  there's 
very  little  goodness  of  which  she  isn't  capable. 
I've  been  studying  her  all  these  weeks,  Mum- 
my, and  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  she 
is  a  very  remarkable  person." 

"  I  shall  be  sorry  to  go  home  without  her." 

"Take  her  with  you." 

"  She  won't  go,  my  son  ;  I  have  often  asked 
her." 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  209 

"I  expect  the  Ogre  bullied  her.  Mother, 
should  you  be  glad  if  she  cared  for  me  ? " 

"Do  you  mean  if  she  would  marry  you, 
Jim  I " 

"  Yes,  I  mean  that.  I  don't  believe  she 
would ;  for,  though  she  seems  to  like  being 
with  me,  she  has  never  given  me  a  word  of  en- 
couragement all  the  time.  I  have  grown  fond 
of  her,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  and  stooped  to 
kiss  his  mother.  "  I  never  cared  for  auy  other 
woman  in  my  life,  and  I  don't  feel  as  if  I 
could  face  going  back  to  Lahore  without  her." 

Just  for  one  moment  the  old  lady  sat 
silent.  Had  not  her  son  loved  her  best  all  his 
life  \  Even  though  she  had  wished  it,  a 'little 
dismay  came  into  her  heart  when  she  realised 
that  someone  else  had  taken  possession  of  him, 
but  she  swept  it  away. 

"I'm  very  glad,"  she  answered  lovingly. 
"  She  is  the  sweetest  girl  I  have  ever  met.  I 
have  often  compared  her  with  the  underbred 
and  over- educated  young  women  we  are  always 
meeting  nowadays." 


210  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"  That's  rather  severe,''  he  laughed.  "But 
you  are  a  dear  mother.  I  say,  if  she  won't  go 
to  England,  couldn't  we  go  on  somewhere  else 
and  take  her  with  us  %  Not  to  an  hotel,  for  I 
always  feel  like  a  tame  cat  after  a  week  in  one  ; 
or  else  the  women  who  sit  and  purr  to  each 
other,  and  the  men  who  play  draughts  in  the 
evening,  make  me  feel  pleasantly  murderous. 
Let  us  take  a  villa  to  ourselves  somewhere, 
with  a  garden  for  you  to  walk  in,  and  not  on 
the  top  of  a  confounded  mountain — I  beg  your 
pardon,  Mummy,  but,  you  see,  I  can't  do  any 
climbing  now — some  place  where  we  could 
drive  about  a  bit,  or  perhaps  she  and  I  could 
ride." 

"  You  had  better  speak  to  her  first." 

"  Not  too  soon,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head  ; 
"she's  been  a  little  hold-offish  lately,  I'm 
afraid  to  rush  it." 

"  Shall  I  try  and  find  out  \  " 

"No,  a  man  likes  to  try  his  own  luck. 
We  are  going  out  in  the  morning  to  make  a 
sketch  from  the  top — to  present  to  Miss  Ben- 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  211 

nett.  She  said  she  hated  photographs.  Per- 
haps something  will  come  of  it ;  but  don't  ask 
me.  I  will  tell  you  when  there  is  anything  to 
tell." 

The  door  opened  and  Katherine  walked  in. 
u  May  I  come  %  "  she  asked.  "  They  are  play- 
ing Consequences  downstairs,  and  I  am  tired. 
There's  a  new  novel  left  behind  by  the  young 
men  who  came  up  yesterday  and  went  down 
to-day.  and  here  it  is :  I  stole  it  for  the 
Mummy." 

"I  like  to  hear  you  call  me  that,  dear," 
Mrs.  Alford  said,  looking  up  with  a  smile. 
The  colour  came  to  Katherine' s  face,  but  she 
went  on  as  though  she  had  not  heard. 

"Miss  Bennett  is  very  angry  because  she 
was  asked  to  write  her  confession  in  some- 
body's book,  and  she  put  down  that  her  idea 
of  happiness  was  silence,  and  the  very  young 
man— who  is,  I  think,  a  student— said  that  he 
didn't  believe  it." 

"Miss  Bennett  was  having  a  row  with  the 
landlord   this  morning,"  Jim  said.     "I  heard 


212  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

him  remark  as  I  entered  the  bureau,  'Unless 
that  is  done,  Mademoiselle,  we  will  consider 
that  you  leave  on  Saturday.'" 

"  Perhaps  it  is  because  she  has  not  paid  her 
bill.  I  am  certain  she  is  poor,  and  she  is  go- 
ing to  die,"  Katherine  said,  dismayed.  "I 
don't,  mean  yet — I  mean  that  she  will  never  get 
well.  She  is  in  a  consumption ;  the  doctor 
downstairs  told  me  that.  He  said  she  was 
hanging  on  to  life  in  the  strange  manner  that 
people  do  sometimes,  long  after  its  joy  had 
ceased.  And  she  is  poor :  she  betrays  it  in  her 
face  and  her  shrinking  tones,  and  the  things 
she  denies  herself.  It  seems  as  if  death  and 
poverty  were  trying  which  could  gain  upon  her 
first." 

" Couldn't  we  get  some  money  to  her?  It 
must  be  an  awful  thing  to  be  dying  and 
stranded." 

"Oh,  I  wish  we  could!  But  she  is 
sensitive.  It  would  be  so  difficult  to  man- 
age." 

"Oh — well,  we  will  see.     Are  we  going  to 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  213 

do  our  sketch  in  the  morning  % "  he  asked  after 
a  moment's  silence. 

''Shall  we?"  and  she  looked  at  Mrs.  Al- 
ford. 

"  Yes,  my  love,"  the  old  lady  said,  and  took 
the  girl's  hands  and  drew  her  face  down  and 
kissed  it,  and  whispered,  "I  want  you  to  go 
with  him." 

Katherine  drew  back  abruptly.  '  *  Alice  and 
I  used  to  go  out  sketching  long  ago  at  Shoot- 
er's Hill,"  she  said. 

"  As  if  you  were  sisters,"  the  old  lady  said 
eagerly. 

"Then  Jim  would  be  my  brother." 

"Oh,  no;  sister  to  Alice  would  make  me 
your  brother-in-law,  which  is  better.  Sisters 
bully  their  brothers,  you  know,"  he  added 
quickly.  "  I  say,  did  you  put  down  your  con- 
fessions ? "  he  asked,  merely  for  the  sake  of  say- 
ing something.  "I  wonder  what  your  idea  of 
happiness  would  be  1 " 

"Freedom.  It  is  the  most  blessed  of  all 
things." 


214  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"  There  is  a  good  deal  of  nonsense  talked 
about  it,"  lie  said  shortly;  "it  depends  upon 
what  you  mean  by  freedom.  Explain,  made- 
moiselle." 

"I  can't,"  she  answered.  "I  am  tired,  and 
must  go.  Good-night,"  and  with  a  kiss  to  the 
old  lady  and  a  look  to  him,  she  went  slowly 
from  the  room. 

He  looked  after  her  for  a  moment.  "You 
women  are  strange  beings,  Mummy  dear,"  he 
said  in  a  puzzled  tone.  "  But  it  is  getting  late, 
let  us  separate  also.  I  have  some  letters  to 
write,  and  the  post  goes  early." 

"  Good-night,  my  son." 

"Now,  then,"  he  said  when  he  was  alone, 
"let  us  see  what  can  be  done  for  Miss  Ben- 
nett." He  looked  up  between  the  lines  of  his 
letter  of  instruction  to  England  to  think  about 
Katherine.  "I  can't  make  her  out,"  he  said 
once  or  twice  ;  "  she  is  not  a  bit  of  a  flirt,  and 
if  I'  m  not  an  ass,  she  has  sometimes  looked  as 
if  she  cared  about  me ;  but  she  has  a  manner 
that    makes    her  absolutely    unapproachable. 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  215 

There's  a  curious  mixture  of  simplicity  and  dig- 
nity about  her  that  I  expect  takes  a  more  ex- 
perienced hand  than  mine  to  manage." 

But  Katherine,  standing  before  the  open 
window  in  her  room,  was  quite  content.  "I 
am  so  happy,"  she  said  to  herself,  "so  per- 
fectly happy — only  I  want  it  never  to  come  to 
an  end.  That  is  impossible,"  she  sighed;  "so 
I  must  be  thankful  to  have  known  him  and 
loved  him,  for  I  do  love  him  with  all  my  heart. 
I  don't  care  what  it  costs  me,  or  what  I  have  to 
suffer  for  it  by  and  by.  If  the  pain  is  mine,  so 
is  the  love,  and  so  will  be  the  remembrance. 
It  can  never  make  any  difference  to  him  ;  he 
will  never  know,  and  his  mother  will  never 
know.  Oh,  it  can't  be  wrong,"  she  cried,  "he 
shall  never,  never  know — it  can't  be  wrong!" 
She  stopped  before  the  volume  of  Browning, 
and,  opening  it  at  random,  read  as  if  in  answer 
to  her  thoughts — 

Let  us  be  unashamed  of  soul, 

As  earth  lies  bare  to  Heaven  above  ! 

How  is  it  under  our  control, 
To  love  or  not  to  love  ? 


216  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

"I  wonder  if  he  cares  for  me  at  all;  but 
that  doesn't  matter,  it  can  make  no  difference. 
I  have  to  go  my  way  and  he  to  go  his,  and 
nothing  could  make  any  difference."  A  flood 
of  memories  overwhelmed  her.  "  Oh,  how 
could  Uncle  Robert  do  it — how  could  he  be  so 
cruel !  For  I  did  not  understand — but  after 
all,  it  was  but  the  way  that  led  to  this,  and  to 
think  that  makes  me  even  thankful  for  all  I 
went  through  at  Montague  Place.  I'm  glad 
— glad — glad,"  she  added,  with  a  long  sigh. 
"  Jim  has  no  need  of  me,  that  is  one  comfort ; 
he  will  forget  me  as  soon  as  I  go,  and  while  she 
has  him  his  mother  does  not  need  me.  It  is 
only  Miss  Bennett  who  needs  me,  if  anyone 
does."  She  put  out  the  light  and  went  to  the 
window  again  ;  she  wanted,  with  her  great 
happiness,  to  look  out  at  the  world  and  up  at 
the  sky  and  into  space,  and  not  to  keep  it  in 
a  narrow  room.  "Why  do  people  die  for 
love,  and  why  are  they  so  miserable  about  it,  I 
wonder  %  To  know  a  man  like  Jim,  and  to 
love  him,  is  surely  enough  to  live  for  and  be 


A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  217 

thankful.  I  shall  be  better  all  my  life  because 
of  these  days,  no  matter  what  comes  after 
them.  There  is  midnight  as  well  as  noon,  and 
we  must  take  both  in  our  twenty-four  hours. 
It  seems  such  folly  to  grieve  in  the  night,  when 
one  might  lie  still  and  think  of  the  day  and 
the  happiness  it  brought  one.  That  is  what  I 
shall  do  when  I  live  alone  in  my  little  Italian 
place.  I  shall  think  of  him  and  try  to  do  all 
the  good  I  can,  if  I  am  capable  of  any,  just  as 
a  thank-offering  for  these  dear  days  in  which  I 
have  been  so  happy." 

There  was  no  going  out  the  next  morning. 
It  was  windy  and  rainy  ;  a  thunderstorm  was 
coming  over  from  Italy,  and  the  firs  were 
wrapped  in  a  heavy  mist.  "  We  must  do  our 
sketch  another  day,"  Katherine  thought,  look- 
ing disconsolately  from  the  window  on  the 
staircase.  The  landlord's  daughter  came  out 
of  Miss  Bennett's  room  ;  she  hesitated  and 
stopped. 

uMiss  Kerr,"  she  said,  "  can  I  speak  to 
you  % "  and  she  opened  the  door  of  an  empty 


218  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

room.  "I  ought  not  to  tell  you,  but  I  know 
you  are  a  friend  of  Miss  Bennett's,  and  per- 
haps you  will  not  tell  anyone  that  I  have 
spoken  to  you.  She  has  not  paid  us  for  some 
time  ;  it  is  not  much,  for  she  looked  so  ill 
when  she  came,  that  my  father  was  sorry  and 
said  as  little  as  he  could,  but  she  has  not  paid 
anything  for  weeks.  I  think  my  father  would 
forgive  her  altogether,  for  he  feels  that  she  is 
poor,  and  he  is  sorry  for  her  ;  but  she  is  so 
haughty,  so  bitter,  and  to-day  she  treated 
him  with  such  scorn  that  he  has  declared  she 
shall  not  stay  any  longer.  I  thought  I  would 
speak  to  her  myself  without  his  knowledge,  but 
she  is  unbearable,  and  told  me  to  leave  the  room." 

"  Let  me  pay  her  bill." 

"  Oh,  no!  certainly  not;  but  if  you  could 
say  something  to  her  and  make  her  a  little 
more  polite." 

"  It  is  very  difficult.  I  will  try,  but  I 
would  not  hurt  her  for  the  world.  Be  good  to 
her — I  know  you  will.  She  is  going  to  die," 
Katherine  said  gently.     She  heard  Miss  Ben- 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  219 

nett  coughing  uneasily  as  she  passed  her  door, 
and  went  in  as  if  to  soothe  her.  "I  am  so 
sorry,"  she  said  ;  "  the  rain  and  mist  are  bad 
for  you." 

"  It  doesn't  matter.  I  am  tired  of  waiting 
first  for  one  thing  and  then  for  another.  Now  it 
is  for  the  sunshine."    Her  face  was  very  weary. 

"  You  will  be  better  when  it  comes," 
Katherine  said,  and  stroked  the  thin,  badly 
shaped  hands. 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  better.  I  shall  be  glad 
enough  to  die.     Life  is  too  difficult  to  manage." 

"It  is  very  difficult,"  Katherine  answered. 
44 1  think  that  we  ought  to  share  things  more 
than  we  do.  If  the  people  who  have  hap- 
piness, for  instance,  would  set  about  giving 
some  to  the  people  who  have  none  ;  if  the 
people  who  were  strong  could  take  those  who 
are  weak  to  places  where  they  would  get  well ; 

if  every  strong  man  carried  a  weak  woman 

Oh  !  I  am  talking  nonsense." 

"I  have  nothing  to  share,"  Miss  Bennett 
said  grimly. 


220  A   PLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"I  have  been  thinking  of  something  that 
you  could  do  for  me,"  Katherine  said,  a  happy- 
thought  striking  her,  "and  it  has  come  out  of 
this  philosophy.  I  am  all  by  myself  in  the 
world,  and  I  am  very  strong  and  happy,  and 
have  money.  I  want  you  to  share  all  my  things, 
my  happiness  and  strength  and  loneliness.  I 
have  no  one  to  take  care  of  ;  if  you  would,  let 
me  take  care  of  you.  I  would  take  you  away 
to  a  little  warm  place  in  Italy,  and  you  should 
get  strong  again.  I  should  like  to  begin  at 
once,"  she  added,  "  though  we  needn't  go  away 
from  here  directly." 

Miss  Bennett  looked  up  quickly.  "  I  sup- 
pose they  have  told  you  that  my  bill  is  not 
paid — or  you  heard  me  speaking  about  it  in 
the  bureau  yesterday.  It  is  not  convenient  to 
me  to  pay  it  just  now." 

"  Let  me  pay  it.  I  have  plenty  ;  and  if  by 
and  by  you  have  plenty  and  I  have  none  you 
can  do  the  same  for  me.  That  is  what  I  am 
trying  to  propose — that  we  share  things,  you 
and  1,  for  we  are  both  alone  in  the  world." 


A   FLASH   OP   SUMMER.  221 

"  I  don't  want  it,  thank  you,"  Miss  Bennett 
answered,  in  her  usual  ungracious  manner. 
"I  have  written  to  England.  They  can  wait 
for  their  bill ;  I  don't  care  if  it  isn't  paid  at  all. 
They  make  enough  by  the  English ;  let  them 
lose  a  little." 

"  Oh,  but  that  would  be  so  unpleasant  for 
you  !  " 

"Well,"  Miss  Bennett  said,  looking  up, 
"  what  then  %  I  don't  want  to  take  a  friendly 
leave  of  the  world.  I  should  be  sorry  to  go  if 
I  found  it  too  pleasant.  It  is  better  to  feel  a 
satisfaction  in  dying  than  a  regret." 

"  In  dying  1 "  Katherine  said  sadly. 

"I  know  what  is  before  me  well  enough." 
She  took  her  left  hand  away  from  Katherine 
and  stroked  it  with  the  right  one,  looking  curi- 
ously the  while  at  its  transparency.  "  I  know 
what  is  before  me.  What  does  it  matter?  I 
have  lived,  and  am  going  to  die.  Why  do 
people  make  so  much  fuss  about  it  ?  Life  is  a 
great  deal  of  trouble." 

"  I  wonder  why  you  are  so  bitter." 


222  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"  Things  went  badly  with  me  when  I  was 
young,  and  I  have  never  forgiven  the  people 
who  made  them  so." 

"  Don't  you  think  you  might  now  \ "  Kath- 
erine  pleaded. 

Miss  Bennett  shook  her  head.  "  I  was 
never  able  to  forgive.  Only  God  can  do  that, 
and  even  He  needs  reparation.  I  don't  under- 
stand forgiveness  among  people  who  live  a 
little  while  and  then  die.  No  forgiveness  will 
undo  a  thing  that  is  done,  or  unbury  the  years 
that  were  ruined.  My  youth  was  ruined  by 
harshness  and  selfishness.  It  was  done  to 
make  me  suffer,  I  suppose.  I  want  to  make 
others  worse  for  it  sometimes.  I  feel  as  if  I 
had  a  grudge  against  the  world  and  everyone 
who  lives  in  it.  I  can't  help  it.  You  mustn't 
think  I'm  not  grateful  to  you." 

Katherine  stooped  and  kissed  her,  and  felt 
that  now  she  understood  love's  use  and  its 
divinity. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Some  news  came  for  the  Alfords  that 
obliged  them  to  give  up  any  idea  of  a  villa 
abroad,  so  they  arranged  to  stay  at  Generoso 
till  the  end  of  September,  by  which  time,  in- 
deed, seeing  that  neither  of  them  was  strong, 
it  would  be  necessary  to  descend,  even  though 
the  hotel  remained  open.  They  meant  to  stay 
a  week  in  Milan,  at  the  Cavour,  and  then 
journey  home.  Jim  reconciled  himself  by 
thinking  that  the  bracing  air  of  England, 
would  do  him  good  and  lit  him  for  a  long 
spell  of  service  at  Lahore. 

"  Are  you  going  to  live  there  all  your 
life  %  "  Katherine  asked. 

"  I  expect  so,"  he  answered  ;  "  till  I  am 
sixty,  at  any  rate,  and  pensioned  off  like  a 
respectable  old  buffer." 

15  (223) 


224  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

"  And  when  are  you  going  back « " 

"  In  January.  Meanwhile  there  is  the 
Mummy's  house  at  Chilworth  to  see.  She 
built  it  for  herself  while  I  was  away." 

UA  red  brick  house  standing  alone,"  Mrs. 
Alford  said,  "near  a  wood.  I  wish  you  could 
come  and  stay  there."  But  Katherine  shook 
her  head  ruefully,  for  she  felt  this  summer 
holiday  was  indeed  coming  to  an  end — less 
than  another  fortnight  and  it  would  be  over. 

Another  fortnight !  -  And  then  she  would 
never  see  him  again.  She  had  to  go  on  into 
the  world  alone  for  the  rest  of  her  days.  u  But 
I  don't  care  yet,"  she  said  to  herself ;  "while 
there  is  another  fortnight,  how  can  I  trouble 
about  what  is  to  come  after  1 "  So  youth  and 
its  temperament  conquered,  and  as  the  clouds 
lifted  from  the  mountain  the  fear  at  her  heart 
lifted  too,  and  as  the  sun  came  out  it  brought 
her  promises  and  intoxicated  her  with  happi- 
ness and  love.  To  look  out  across  Italy  or 
down  at  the  firs,  to  watch  for  the  morning  post- 
man, his  leather  bag  slung  across  his  shoulder 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  225 

as  he  appeared  on  the  little  turnings  of  the  up- 
ward path  visible  from  her  window,  to  see  the 
strangers  coming  and  going,  and  all  the  time 
to  feel  her  heart  brim  over  with  life  :  what  joy 
it  was  —how  could  she  think  about  the  future  ? 
A  glorious  morning  at  last,  still  and  warm. 
Katherine  and  Jim  Alford  went  out  to  make 
their  sketch  for  Miss  Bennett.  He  was  silent 
with  doubt  and  anxiety,  for  he  was  desperately 
in  love  with  the  girl  beside  him.  There  was 
something  almost  unreal  about  her  to  him. 
She  had  come  from  nowhere,  she  had  no  past, 
no  pleasant  memories  to  talk  about.  All  he 
knew  was  that  Alice  had  known  her  for  a  lit- 
tle while  at  school,  that  she  had  an  uncle  in 
Australia,  and  no  home  in  the  world.  She  was 
here  by  a  chance,  as  though  she  had  dropped 
from  the  clouds,  and  she  was  going — only 
Heaven  knew  whither.  He  felt  sometimes  as 
if  she  were  in  reality  the  waif  she  called  her- 
self just  passing  by.  He  wanted  to  stop  her, 
to  hold  her  fast,  to  take  her  back  to  Lahore 
and  give  her  all  the  things  of  which  as  yet  she 


226  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

seemed  to  know  nothing,  and  to  feel  that  her 
aloneness  had  made  her  doubly  his.  Mean- 
while they  walked  on  with  the  camp-stools  and 
the  sketching  things.  She  was  silent,  too,  but 
it  was  from  sheer  contentment  that  did  not  need 
words,  not  even  his  words,  to  make  it  better ; 
and  if  she  thought  beyond  the  moment,  why, 
the  simple  philosophy  of  the  last  few  days 
comforted  her.  The  sun  was  shining  and  the 
sky  was  blue ;  all  about  them  Nature  was  at 
her  best ;  beside  her  walked  the  man  she  loved. 
If  she  was  no  longer  an  unsophisticated  girl  in 
some  things — for  marriage  even  such  as  hers 
could  hardly  leave  her  that — love  was  alto- 
gether an  ideal  thing  to  her,  and  absolutely 
pure  and  unselfish.  She  was  glad  to  love  him, 
glad  that  he  lived  in  the  world,  and  exultant 
that  that  sweet  summer  morning  had  thrown 
them  together  for  a  few  hours  alone  on  the 
mountain-top  away  from  everyone  beyond. 
And  when  they  went  back  to  the  hotel,  there 
would  be  his  mother,  whom  she  loved  too,  and 
there  were  still  some  days   to  come.      Even 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  227 

when  she  had  to  leave  these  dear  people,  she 
would  take  with  her  the  remembrance  of  the 
wonderful  time  spent  with  them,  the  knowl- 
edge that  they  had  liked  having  her  with  them, 
and  she  would  love  them  just  the  same  always 
as  long  as  her  life  went  on.  She  looked  up  at 
him  :  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes  and  he  saw 
them. 

44  Is  anything  the  matter  ? "  he  asked. 

"No.  It  is  only  that  it  is  all  so  beautiful 
and  I  am  happy,  and  wish  it  .could  go  on 
always." 

44  Why  shouldn't  it  V9 

44  All  things  must  come  to  an  end,  or  there 
could  be  no  beginnings." 

44  That's  a  paradox  or  philosophy  or  some- 
thing ;  you  didn't  pull  it  off  very  well."  She 
laughed  away  her  tears. 

44  It  is  so  difficult  to  make  jokes  unless  you 
are  used  to  it. — Nothing  could  be  better  than 
this  point  for  Miss  Bennett's  sketch.  Let  us 
get  to  work." 

They  sat  down  and  put  their  blocks  on  their 


228  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  ' 

knees,  opened  their  little  boxes  of  colours  and 
the  covered  cup  of  water,  and  worked  for  at 
least  half  an  hour. 

"Well?"  he  said  at  last. 

"I  think  we  are  getting  on  beautifully." 

"  So  do  I — going  at  it  hard.  Perhaps  they 
will  put  us  in  the  Koyal  Academy  next  year." 

"Or  the  Luxembourg."  Another  half- 
hour. 

"Mustn't  be  too  ambitious — a  woman  al- 
ways is,  though.  I'm  tired  of  industry,"  he 
said,  and  putting  away  his  colours,  stood  for  a 
few  minutes  looking  over  her  shoulder  till  she, 
too,  gave  up  work.  Then  she  turned  round 
on  her  stool  and  waited  as  if  for  him  to  speak. 
He  took  it  as  an  encouragement  and  gathered 
courage.  "I  wish  you  would  come  back  to 
England."  But  she  shook  her  head.  "Why 
not?  Do  you  know,"  he  went  on  gently,  "I 
think  sometimes  that  you  had  a  very  bad  time 
when  you  were  a  child.     Did  they  bully  you  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  suppose  I  was 
properly  brought  up  and  it  was  good  for  me. 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  229 

I  had  no  other  children  to  play  with,"  she 
added,  for  she  did  not  like  to  think  unkindly 
of  Uncle  Robert.  "  Perhaps  that  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  my  not  being  happy  ;  and, 
Jim,"  she  looked  np  at  him  with  almost  an 
entreaty  in  her  eyes,  "  I  don't  want  to  go  back 
to  England  ;  don't  let  the  Mummy  ask  me  any 


"I  wish  you  would  come  with  us;  we 
would  try  to  make  you  happy,  Kathy,"  and 
he  sat  down  on  the  ground  by  her  camp-stool. 

"I  can't" — something  in  her  heart  warned 
her  that  the  conversation  was  becoming  dan- 
gerous— "I  want  to  spend  the  winter  in 
Italy." 

"  And  alone  ? "  She  nodded  her  head,  and 
looked  away  into  the  distance  they  had  been 
sketching.  "  But,  Katherine,"  and  he  put  his 
hand  on  hers.  She  started  as  if  she  were 
afraid,  for  he  was  looking  at  her  eagerly. 
4 'Don't  be  angry,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice  as 
she  tried  to  get  up.  "  I  was  only  going  to  say 
that  it  is  rather  odd,  you  know,  for  a  girl  to  be 


230  A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

abroad  alone,  staying  about  by  herself  all  the 
winter." 

"  Mrs.  Carter,  at  the  hotel,  is  all  alone  ;  she 
is  not  much  older  than  I  am." 

"She  is  a  married  woman.  Besides,  we 
want  you  with  us."  She  tried  to  laugh  away 
her  embarrassment. 

"I  can  take  care  of  myself,"  she  said. 
"Come,  let  us  walk  on.  Alice  said  you  were 
very  strait-laced ;  but  I  won't  do  anything 
wrong,  though  I  am  alone.  I  wouldn't  for  the 
world,"  she  added,  as  they  gathered  up  their 
things.  There  was  not  a  soul  within  sound ; 
even  the  hotel,  a  little  way  below  them,  was 
hidden  from  sight.  They  could  see  nothing 
but  the  sky  line  of  the  mountain  range.  They 
walked  on  for  a  few  minutes  before  he  an- 
swered. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  would.  I  don't  think 
you  would  know  how.  Will  you  be  glad 
when  we  are  gone  \  " 

"  Glad  !  Why  should  I  be  that,  when  this 
is  the  happiest  time  of  all  my  life?"     The 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  231 

tears  came  into  her  eyes  again  ;  but  she  turned 
away  so  that  he  should  not  know. 

"  And  of  mine,"  he  said,  and  put  his  arm 
on  her  shoulder,  and  drew  her  a  little  way  to- 
wards him  and  looked  at  her  face.  "  Yes,  let 
us  stop  a  minute,"  he  went  on  in  a  tone  that 
would  not  be  resisted.  "  Look  here,  we  might 
lean  against  this  rock,  if  you  do  not  want  to 
lean  against  me— and  the  happiest  time  of  my 
life  too,  Kathy.  I  am  so  afraid  to  speak  to 
you,  my  darling,  you  have  known  me  such  a 
little  while,  and  perhaps  you  think  I  am  just 
a  ruffian  ;  but  Hove  you  and  want  you  to  stay 
with  me,  and  to  belong  to  us  for  ever."  She 
trembled  with  fright,  but  she  could  not  keep 
the  happiness  out  of  her  heart  nor  out  of  her 
eyes,  and  he  saw  it  there.  "  I  want  you  to 
come  back  with  the  Mummy  and  me,  my  dar- 
ling. She  loves  you,  and  I  love  you,  my  sweet 
one — I  love  you  better  than  anyone  in  all  the 
world."  She  tried  to  turn  away  from  him,  but 
perhaps  she  managed  badly,  for  somehow  her 
head  went  on  his  shoulder,  and  he  stooped  and 


232  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

kissed  her  hair  ;  and  she  forgot  to  consider 
whether  it  was  right  or  wrong— only  for  a  mo- 
ment.    Then  she  remembered  : 

"  Yon  mustn't — you  mustn't  !  " 

4 'Yes,  I  must,"  he  whispered  back,  for  he 
felt  that  she  loved  him  and  was  satisfied.  The 
rest  was  only  a  matter  of  persuasion.  "  I  must, 
because  I  love  you  and  want  to  keep  you  all 
my  life.  Do  you  think  you  could  endure  it, 
Kathy  1 "  and  he  kissed  her  hair  again,  and 
tried  to  raise  her  face  to  his.  "Could  ycu 
marry  me  and  go  back  to  India  with  me  ?  " 

u  Oh,  no,  no  !  "  she  said,  and  wrenched  her- 
self away.  "  You  mustn't  touch  me;  and  I 
can  never  marry  anybody  as  long  as  I  live  !  " 
He  looked  at  her  with  astonishment ;  she  had 
seemed  passive  a  moment  before,  and  it  was 
impossible  that  he  could  have  mistaken  the  ex- 
pression in  her  eyes. 

"But  I  thought  you  cared  for  me,"  he  said, 
bewildered  ;  "  did  I  misunderstand  ?  " 

"  I  do  !  "  she  exclaimed  passionately,  u  I  do 
care  ;  it  isn't  that " 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  233 

"And  you  know  that  Hove  you,"  he  said, 
going  forward  reassured,  but  she  put  out  her 
hand  to  keep  him  off. 

"No,  no!"  she  cried  in  alarm;  "you 
mustn't  do  that — but  yes,  I  know  you  care  for 
me— I  felt  it  just  now." 

"Then  why  won't  you  let  me  love  you, 
darling  ?  Why  won't  you  marry  me  %  Is 
there  anyone  else  % "  She  hesitated  and  looked 
at  him,  and  longed  to  tell  him  the  truth.  But 
had  not  Alice  said  that  the  Alfords  were  very 
proper  %  And  had  she  not  herself  heard  what 
the  Mummy  had  said  about  Mrs.  Simpson,  the 
woman  who  had  left  her  husband !  And  did 
not  everyone,  so  far  as  she  knew,  agree  in 
thinking  that  there  was  but  one  path  to  pur- 
sue with  a  runaway  wife,  and  that  was  to  send 
her  back  to  her  husband  %  Besides,  she  could 
not  bear  to  confess  that  she,  who  had  let  him 
kiss  her  just  now,  and  had  been  content  and 
happy  to  rest  her  head  against  him,  was  a  mar- 
ried woman,  and  had  been  passing  herself  off 
as  a  girl.     He  would   think  her  wicked,  and 


234  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

despise  her.  She  felt  wicked,  and  despised 
herself,  for,  as  she  stood  facing  him  on  the 
lonely  pathway,  there  rushed  back  with  ter- 
rible distinctness  the  remembrance  of  her 
wedding-day  and  those  awful  words  she  had 
said  standing  up  in  church  beside  Mr.  Bel- 
cher ;  she  remembered  her  wedding  ring,  and 
signing  her  name  in  the  vestry,  and  going 
away — that  terrible  going  away  with  Mr.  Bel- 
cher to  Windermere.  She  thought  of  Mrs. 
Oswell,  the  first  person  who  had  ever  said 
uMrs.  Belcher"  aloud  to  her.  She  could  see 
in  imagination  the  envelopes  of  the  few  letters 
that  had  come  directed  to  her  in  her  married 
name,  especially  the  first  ones  that  Mr.  Bel- 
cher had  opened.  Everything  seemed  to 
stare  her  in  the  face  as  if  aghast  at  what 
she  had  done  and  was  doing,  and  for  the 
first  time  she  felt  wicked  and  deceitful, 
though  she  knew  that  she  was  neither.  He 
stood  looking  at  her  doubtfully,  wondering 
what  to  do. 

"  Won't  you  speak  to  me,  my  darling,"  he 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  235 

said  at  last,  "and  tell  me  if  there  is  anyone 
else  who  cares  for  you  ? " 

"Anyone  else  who  cares  for  me!"  she  re- 
peated. "No,  no  one  in  the  world,  and  no 
one  ever  did,  and  I  never  cared  for  anyone 
else."  The  "else"  sent  a  flash  of  joy  through 
him.  "For  anyone  else,"  she  said  again,  as 
though  she  knew  what  it  was  to  him,  "  in  my 
whole  life — and  I  never  shall." 

"Then,  my.  sweet,  it  is  all  right,"  he  said, 
in  the  happy  voice  she  loved,  and  that  this  last 
hour  had  seemed  to  be  waking  up  some  new 
life  in  her  to  stir  her  heart  and  soul,  and  he 
tried  to  reach  her  face  again.  But  she  drew 
back  with  alarm  that  had  more  in  it  than  mere 
shyness. 

"You  mustn't,"  she  cried,  "you  mustn't— 
mustn't." 

"But  you  love  me,  dear?  You  said  you 
cared  for  me.     You  meant  it,  didn'  t  you  ? " 

"Hove  you  more  than  the  whole  world," 
she  answered.  "  I  think  there  was  never,  never 
anyone  like  you,"  and  she  burst  into  tears. 


236  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

"And  you  are  going  to  marry  me,  my 
darling." 

"JNo,  I  can't,"  she  answered  firmly,  still 
carefully  keeping  him  at  bay.  "I  am  never 
going  to  marry  anyone  as  long  as  I  live." 

"Dear  goose,"  he  said  tenderly,  "you  are 
going  to  marry  me." 

"No,"  she  cried,  and  looked  at  him  with 
the  hunted  look  that  puzzled  him  sorely.  "  I 
can't,  Jim.  I  am  not  going  to  marry  you — I 
can  never  marry  anybody." 

"And  you  don't  care  for  anyone  else,"  he 
said,  "and  no  one  cares  for  you,  and  never 
did." 

"Never — never,"  she  said,  and  clasped  her 
hands  and  stood  with  her  head  bowed.  He 
looked  at  her  curiously,  up  and  down,  almost 
as  if  he  wondered  whether  it  could  really  be 
she  herself  who  stood  there. 

"  Kathy,"  he  said  gravely,  "I  love  you 
with  all  my  heart,  and  you  say  you  love  me, 
and  I  want  you  to  be  my  wife,  darling.  Won't 
you?" 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  237 

"No,  I  won't,"  she  said  very  gently,  "but 
I  love  you,"  she  pleaded. 

"It  is  no  use  saying  that,"  he  answered 
coldly.  "I  feel  that  somehow  you  are  not 
treating  me  fairly.  Come,  let  us  go."  And 
they  walked  back  to  the  hotel  in  silence. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

She  stopped  by  the  steps  and  looked  up  at 
him.  "  Would  you  mind,"  she  said  gently, 
"  not  telling  the  Mummy  before  lunch?  It 
has  been  all  so  strange  and  sudden.  I  don't 
think  I  could  face  her  if  you  did.  Let  it  be 
till  this  evening."  For  answer  he  nodded  his 
head  and  lagged  behind. 

She  went  up  to  her  own  room — that  room 
in  which  she  had  thought  over  many  things 
and  lived  a  lifetime  while  she  looked  out  at 
the  plains  of  Lombardy — and  shut  the  door 
and  put  her  hand  to  her  head  and  tried  to 
realise  whether  she  was  awake  or  dreaming. 
So  many  conflicting  emotions  beset  her  that 
her  brain  was  in  a  whirl ;  and  yet,  almost 
against  her  will,  her  poor  human  heart  beat 

(238) 


A  FLASH  OP  SUMMER.  239 

for  joy.  For  did  not  Jim  Alford  love  her  best 
in  the  world,  and  want  to  marry  her— to  spend 
his  whole  life  with  her?  Only  the  terrible 
mistake  that  had  been  made  for  her— she  had 
not  made  it  for  herself — stood  between  her  and 
that  great  happiness.  But  she  could  not  dwell 
on  the  mistake  now,  for  the  intoxication  of  the 
moment  rose  above  her  knowledge  of  the  im- 
possibilities. Never  once  in  her  whole  life  had 
she  been  loved  before — her  cheeks  burnt  for 
joy  and  shame  together  while  she  remembered 
it.  Was  it  wrong  %  How  could  it  be— this 
thing  that  was  true?  Neither  he  nor  she 
would  do  anything  wrong  for  the  world. 

Then  she  remembered  his  coldness,  and  her 
heart  stood  still ;  perhaps  he  would  refuse  to 
be  friends  again — the  friends  they  had  been. 
She  did  not  think  she  could  bear  that.  And 
yet,  for  she  felt  that  she  must  look  things  in  the 
face,  suppose  he  did  remain  distant  and  angry  % 
It  would  break  her  heart.  She  could  be  con- 
tent knowing  that  he  loved  her  and  disguised 
his  love  with  friendship,  though  they  were  a 

16 


240  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

thousand  miles  apart,  but  not  if  he  were 
changed  towards  her.  But  of  course  he  would 
change  towards  her  if  she  declared  she  loved 
him  and  yet  refused  to  marry  him.  What 
could  he  think  but  that  she  did  not  care  for 
him  so  much  as  for  her  liberty,  or  so  much  as 
he  did  for  her — he  who  wanted  her  for  his 
whole  life?  She  seemed  to  live  hours  while 
one  possibility  after  another  presented  itself  to 
her  whirling  brain.  In  the  first  moment  of 
wild  excitement  she  had  had  an  idea  that  he 
would  forget  his  proposal  after  a  little  while, 
and  go  back  to  the  old  footing,  and  they  would 
be  closer,  happier  friends  than  ever,  with  the 
exquisite  knowledge  at  their  hearts  that  they 
loved  each  other.  "But  no,  no  !  "  she  shook 
her  head,  and  realised  that  they  could  never  go 
back  to  it.  Something  in  space  that  was  like 
a  whisper  from  the  world  told  her  so.  They 
would  remember  that  morning  all  their  lives, 
and  hunger  for  more  than  had  before  contented 
them.  "  And  we  might  have  been  so  happy, 
life  might  have  been  such  a  wonderful  thing ! 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  241 

It  is  for  people  who  feel  as  we  do  that  mar- 
riage was  made,  not  for  cruel  or  worldly  peo- 
ple to  gain  money  or  position  by,"  and  she 
burst  into  passionate  tears.  "  I  ought  to  tell 
him  !  It  would  be  fairer — it  would  be  right — 
even  though  it  kills  me,  he  ought  to  know  !  " 
But  her  courage  failed  her  as  she  said  it.  He 
would  think  her  so  wicked,  and  never  under- 
stand how  she,  a  girl  who  had  travelled  alone 
to  Italy  and  unafraid  of  the  world,  had  been 
kept  down  and  cowed  in  the  old  Shooter's  Hill 
days.  He  would  never  understand  the  insults 
and  sneers,  apart  from  the  blows  that  had 
brought  about  the  crisis  of  Montague  Place. 

Then  the  Mummy.  She  would  have  to 
know,  and  had  she  not  said  that  nothing  jus- 
tified a  woman  in  leaving  her  husband  ?  They 
would  send  her  back — the  Mummy  and  Jim — 
they  would  despise  her  and  send  her  back. 
Perhaps  they  would  think  it  a  duty  to  write 
to  Mr.  Belcher.  Her  heart  grew  cold  at  the 
thought.  She  felt  that  she  would  rather  live 
any  lonely  or  miserable  life  that  could  be  de- 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

vised  for  her  on  this  earth  than  go  back  to  Mr. 
Belcher.  She  would  infinitely  rather  die.  She 
got  np  and  stood  by  the  bed,  looking  out  dis- 
mayed into  space.  The  great  joy  of  earth  had 
come  to  her — the  joy  of  being  loved  by  the  man 
to  whom  her  heart  was  given,  but  it  brought 
her  only  trouble  and  difficulty  ;  she  had  to  put 
it  aside  for  the  sake  of  a  tie  that  was  only  an 
idea.  All  trace  of  her  marriage  to  Mr.  Belcher 
had  vanished  so  completely  from  her  surround- 
ings, and  even  from  her  thoughts  of  late,  that 
it  had  become  like  a  dream  to  her,  or  like  a 
nightmare  that  would  only  return  to  a  sleeper 
who  dared  to  shut  his  eyes.  "  Oh,  life  is  the 
strangest  thing  in  the  world,"  she  said  to  her- 
self, and  looked  out  of  the  window  for  a  mo- 
ment almost  beseechingly,  as  if  asking  the 
world  she  saw  from  it  to  give  her  counsel. 
Then  the  door  opened,  and  Miss  Bennett 
looked  in.     She  was  pale  and  haggard.     Kath- 

erine  saw  it  with  a  start,  and  chokingly  pushed 

> 

her  own  interests  aside. 

"Oh,  Miss  Bennett !  "  she  said,   "I  meant 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  24:3 

to  have  gone  to  you  this  morning,  but  we  went 
out  early  to  make  that  sketch  from  the  top.  I 
fear  we  didn't  get  much  done,"  and  she  looked 
ruefully  at  the  block  she  had  thrown  carelessly 
on  the  table  ;  "  but  I  will  try  and  finish  it  to- 
morrow. Sit  here  by  the  window,  you  look  so 
very  tired." 

"  I  have  had  a  pleasant  surprise  and  wanted 
to  tell  you.  Never  mind  about  the  sketch.  I 
daresay  I  should  only  give  it  away,"  she  added, 
with  her  usual  lack  of  graciousness.  "  I  am 
going  from  here  in  a  few  days — in  fact,  as  soon 
as  I  can  get  away,"  and  a  smile  broke  over  her 
face. 

"  Something  has  happened  to  you,"  Kath- 
erine  said  wonderingly  —  "  something  that 
pleases  you." 

"  Yes,  it  has.  Perhaps  it  will  please  you, 
too,  for  you  offered  to  lend  me  your  money." 

"  I  wish  you  had  taken  it." 

Miss  Bennett  shook  her  head.  "  I  couldn't 
take  it  from  a  girl.  You  may  have  little 
enough,  for  all  I  know.     This  morning  I  had 


244:  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

a  letter.  Look !  "  She  took  a  registered  en- 
velope from  her  pocket.  It  contained  bank- 
notes for  a  hundred  ponnds  ;  on  a  sheet  of 
paper  that  enclosed  them  were  the  words, 
With  best  wishes.  Katherine  felt  a  throb  of 
joy  go  through  her,  for  she  understood — Jim 
had  done  it,  she  was  certain  of  it.  She  remem- 
bered the  expression  on  his  face  the  other 
night,  when  he  said  that  it  must  be  a  bad 
thing  to  be  dying  and  stranded ;  and  his 
mother  had  often  told  her  of  his  easy  gener- 
osity. Oh,  yes,  it  was  he  beyond  all  doubt. 
She  counted  up  the  days  that  had  intervened — 
the  days  of  bad  weather — since  that  talk  to 
which  he  had  never  afterwards  alluded.  There 
had  been  just  time  for  him  to  write  home  and 
direct  the  money  to  be  sent  in  this  manner. 
"  Yes,  it  is  Jim,"  she  said  to  herself,  while  the 
tears  came  into  her  eyes.  "It  is  like  you,  and 
I  am  proud  of  you,  and  love  you.  Oh  !  you 
must  never  know  how  I  have  deceived  you.  I 
will  go  away  at  once."  She  almost  started  at 
the  idea — it  would  solve  so  many  difficulties. 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  245 

Then  she  stooped  and  kissed  Miss  Bennett 
from  sheer  gratitude,  for  had  not  the  sick  wom- 
an given  her  the  knowledge  of  this  good  deed  1 

"  I  don't  know  where  they  came  from,"  Miss 
Bennett  said.  "  They  may  be  a  gift,  or  the 
payment  of  a  debt.  I  had  just  fifty  pounds 
left,  and  had  written  home  for  it.  Now,  per- 
haps, I  shall  have  enough  left,  when  my  bill  is 
paid,  to  last  me  till  I  die." 

Someone  walked  along  the  corridor  outside, 
half  hesitated,  and  went  downstairs.  Kather- 
ine  felt  certain  that  it  was  Jim  ;  she  knew  his 
step. 

"  Oh,  don't  talk  of  dying,"  she  said  gently. 
"Life  is  sweet  at  its  worst,  and  you  may  get 
well.     Tell  me  where  you  are  going." 

"  To  Italy.  Perhaps  I  shall  live  through 
the  winter.  When  I  am  much  worse  my  sis- 
ter will  come,  but  she  will  not  be  able  to  stay 
long." 

Katherine  knew  what  she  meant.  This 
planned  meeting  of  life  and  death  made  her 
shudder. 


246  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"But  where,  precisely,  are  you  go- 
ing?" she  asked.  "And  are  you  going 
alone  1 " 

"  There  is  a  woman  I  know — she  has  a  little 
pension  on  the  Italian  Riviera — at  Alassio.  It 
is  just  a  little  place,  and  hardly  anyone  has 
heard  of  it.  She  and  I  have  known  each  other 
for  years,  and  she  does  not  talk.  I  want  to  be 
with  someone  who  is  silent." 

"  But  you  can't  go  alone  ?" 

"I  must,  and  this  money  makes  it  pos- 
sible." 

"Let  me  take  you?"  Katherine  exclaimed. 
"  I  am  going  from  here  ;  I  want  to  go.  Oh,  do 
let  me  take  you.  I  couldn't  bear  to  think  of 
you  on  your  way  alone." 

"I  thought  you  were  going  to  marry  Mrs. 
Alford's  son." 

"No,  that  is  impossible;  and  they  are  go- 
ing home  very  soon.  Let  me  take  you  to 
Alassio  ;  I  won't  talk ;  I  will  be  very  silent. 
And  I  want  to  go  to  some  little  Italian  place — 
that  has  been  my  intention,  bat  it  must  be  a 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  247 

place  where  there  are  no  English  at  all.  Per- 
haps I  might  find  one  near  you  ;  then  I  should 
see  you  sometimes  in  the  winter." 

"I  should  like  to  see  you  ;  you  are  a  good 
girl,  and  mean  well,"  Miss  Bennett  said,  and 
Katherine  heard  her  with  infinite  gratitude. 
"  There  is  an  hotel  half  a  mile  out  of  Alassio, 
low  down  on  the  shore.  It  has  an  orange  gar- 
den, the  largest  one  I  know,  and  the  moun- 
tains rise  up  beyond.  It  might  do  for  you, 
and  I  have  heard  that  it  is  cheap :  women  who 
are  alone  never  have  any  money,"  she  added 
with  grim  sarcasm.  "Or  a  mile  farther  on  is 
Laigueglia.  There  are  no  English  there,  and 
very  few  Italians — only  a  cracked  white  marble 
church,  a  few  ruined  houses,  and  desolate  gar- 
dens." 

"  When  shall  you  be  ready  to  go  ? " 
Miss  Bennett  answered  quickly  :  "Directly 
— in  a  day  or  two — as  soon  as  I  have  packed 
my  things  ;  they  will  not  take  long— there  are 
only  those  two  little  boxes.  But  if  you  can't 
be  ready  so  soon  I  will  wait.     After  all,  it 


248  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

doesn't  matter,"  and  her  momentary  excite- 
ment died  away. 

"  I  will  tell  you  after  lunch,  or  at  tea-time 
if  that  will  do,  when  I  can  be  ready."  Kath- 
erine  followed  the  direction  of  Miss  Bennett's 
eyes  and  saw  Jim  Alford  taking  the  downward 
path  towards  Mendrisio.  "  Perhaps  he  is  go- 
ing away  to  avoid  me,"  she  thought,  catching 
her  breath.  "I  will  go  when  you  like,"  she 
said,  turning  to  Miss  Bennett.  "Hark!  there 
is  the  luncheon  bell.  Let  us  go  down,"  she 
cried  eagerly. 

Mrs.  Alford  was  taking  her  place  at  table. 

"Has  Jim  gone  away?"  Katherine  asked 
breathlessly. 

"No,  my  dear,"  the  old  lady  said,  looking 
up  with  mild  surprise  ;  "he  has  only  gone  out 
for  a  couple  of  hours  because  he  wanted  to  be 
alone.  He  will  be  hack  by  three  o'clock  ;  but 
he  talks  of  going  to  Milan  for  a  few  days. 
I  wish  he  would  wait  for  me,"  she  added. 
"This  is  quite  a  sudden  freak." 

"I  will  go  first,"  Katherine  thought. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  But,  my  dear,"  Mrs.  Alford  said  bewil- 
dered, "  Jim  will  be  miserable  when  you  are 
gone,  and  so  shall  I."  This  was  a  couple  of 
hours  after  lunch,  while  they  sat  together  in 
the  sitting-room  that  had  gradually  become 
home-like. 

"You  will  have  him  to  take  care  of  you," 
Katherine  answered;  "he  has  only  a  few 
months  more  to  be  with  you.  They  will  be 
better  without  a  third  person,  dear  Mummy; 
and  I  must  journey  on.  Some  day  I  shall  see 
you  again,  I  hope." 

"But  you  may  not  see  him  again  for 
years." 

"I  know,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  that  she 
could  not  keep  steady,   for  though   she  had 

(249) 


250  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

faced  this  possibility  in  her  own  room,  it  was 
harder  to  hear  it  put  into  words — they  brought 
her  knowledge  of  how  difficult  it  would  be  to 
tear  her  life  away  from  his.  What !  never  to 
see  him  again  or  to  hear  his  laugh,  or  walk  be- 
side him,  or  to  read  Browning — had  he  not 
told  her  how  dangerous  it  was  ?  He  was  going 
back  to  England  and  then  to  India,  and  she — 
Heaven  alone  knew  where  ;  and  the  beginning 
of  this  state  of  things  was  only  a  day  or  two 
distant :  it  came  upon  her  with  an  overwhelm- 
ing sense  that  was  not  to  be  borne.  She  could 
not  live  entirely  without  him.  They  must  be 
friends,  very  great  friends.  Nothing  else  was 
possible,  and  even  that  was  almost  impossible 
while  the  secret  of  her  life  remained  one.  UI 
don't  suppose,"  she  went  on  in  a  dazed  voice, 
"I  shall  ever  see  him  again  after  I  leave  here." 
"Tell  me,"  said  the  old  lady,  taking  her 
hands  and  trying  to  look  into  her  face,  "tell 
me  why  you  are  going — is  my  boy  nothing  to 
you?  I  have  been  hoping  that  you  were  a 
great  deal  to  each  other." 


A  FLASH  OF   SUMMER.  251 

Katherine  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then 
answered  simply  and  out  of  a  full  heart,  "I 
think  there  is  no  one  in  the  wide  world  like 
him,  but  it  can't  make  any  difference,  Mummy 
dear.  I  can  never  go  to  England  again  while  I 
live." 

"Were  you  treated  so  very  cruelly,  my 
child?" 

"  I  was  very  miserable  there,"  she  answered, 
and  she  thought :  "  Oh,  if  I  could  only  tell  her 
— if  I  could  only  tell  her!  But  she  would 
never  forgive  me ;  and  she  would  send  me 
back." 

"  But  your  uncle  is  in  Australia  ?  " 

"It  makes  no  difference,  Mummy!"  for 
latterly  she  had  quite  dropped  the  more 
formal  address.  "I  want  you  to  promise  me 
something — it  is,  not  to  tell  anyone  in  England 
that  you  ever  met  anyone  called  by  my 
name." 

"  My  dear,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Only — if  I  were  discovered  I  should  die  ; 
that  is  why  I  cannot  go  back." 


252  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"  You  are  not  giving  me  all  your  confi- 
dence," the  old  lady  said  gravely. 

"No,  and  I  cannot."  There  was  almost 
agony  in  her  voice.  "I  have  learnt  many 
things  in  this  last  year,"  she  went  on,  "and 
one  is,  that  people  are  judged  not  by  the  in- 
tention in  their  conduct,  but  by  its  effect." 

"I  do  not  understand  you,  my  dear,"  and 
Mrs.  Alford  drew  back  coldly. 

"Oh,  don't,  don't!"  Katherine  cried. 
"Love  me  a  little  while  longer;  I  am  going 
away  in  two  or  three  days  !  Only  while  I  am 
here,  Mummy  dear,  so  that  the  memory  of  it- 
is  not  spoilt — won't  you  ?  "  She  took  the  old 
lady's  hands  and  kissed  them.  "I  always 
told  you  that  I  was  a  waif  ;  perhaps  you  had 
better  forget  all  about  me  when  I  go,  as  you 
would  about  a  waif  who  has  gone  on  into  the 
distance  or  the  crowd.  Oh,  here  is  Jim  !  Jim," 
she  said  excitedly,  "Mummy  is  angry  with 
me,"  and  she  put  her  arms  round  the  old  lady's 
neck  and  kissed  her.  "This  dear  Mummy, 
who  has  been  so  kind  to  me,  kinder  than  any- 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  253 

one  else  in  the  wide  world,  and  given  me  more 
happiness  than  I  ever  knew  in  all  my  life  be- 
fore— enough  to  last  me  all  my  life.  I  have 
not  done  any  harm,  dear  Mummy,  I  have  not 
indeed — you  needn't  look  so  coldly  at  me. 
Jim,"  she  said,  turning  to  him  quickly,  "I 
want  to  talk  to  you  all  by  myself.  I  may, 
may  I  not,  dear  Mummy  %  Shall  we  go  to  the 
farm  once  more,  you  and  I,  and  get  the  cream 
for  tea  %  They  will  want  their  tea,  you  know, 
Jim,  and  we  shaVt  be  able  to  go  again,  for  I 
am  going  away " 

"  Going  away  !  " 

"  Yes,  with  Miss  Bennett.  I  will  tell  you 
on  the  way  to  the  farm.  Oh,  do  let  us  go," 
she  pleaded,  for  she  fancied  that  he  hesitated, 
"  just  for  a  last,  last  time  along  the  little  path- 
way. I  will  get  my  hat  at  once."  She  put  her 
cheek  lovingly  against  the  old  lady's  for  a  mo- 
ment, then  fled  along  the  corridor. 

"Jim,"  Mrs.  Alford  said  to  her  son,  "I 
think  I  know  that  child's  secret :  the  Ogre  ill- 
treated  her  and  she  ran  away." 


254  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"  Well,  lie  is  safe  in  Australia  now— and 
I'll  try  what  I  can  do  this  afternoon." 

"I  am  ready,  I  am  quite  ready,"  Katherine 
said,  appearing  at  the  doorway.  He  crossed 
over  to  her  quickly  and  they  set  off  together, 
down  the  stairs  and  out  of  the  hotel  and  to- 
wards the  farm.  "  You  are  angry,  I  know  you 
are  angry,"  she  said,  still  speaking  breathless- 
ly ;  "you  and  the  Mummy  are  both  changing 
to  me  at  the  same  moment." 

"Changing!"  he  said,  "when  only  this 
morning  I  told  you  how  much  I  loved  you." 
He  turned  and  looked  at  her,  and  she  saw  the 
expression  on  his  face  and  faltered. 

"And  I  love  you,  Jim,  dear,"  she  said, 
looking  back  at  him  with  her  blue  eyes  full 
of  tears.  "And  I  love  you,  God  knows  I  do, 
only  indeed  you  mustn't  ask  me  to  marry 
you." 

He  shook  his  head.  "You  are  not  treat- 
ing me  fairly,  Kathy,"  he  said  tenderly,  but 
she  knew  by  his  tone  that  he  meant  what  he 
said. 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  255 

"  But  can't  you  feel  that  I  love  you,  can't 
you  hear  it  in  my  voice,  don't  you  know  it  ? " 
she  asked  desperately. 

"I  do,"  he  said,  "  and  that  makes  it  all  the 
more  strange. " 

"  Doesn't  it  satisfy  you,  as  the  knowledge 
of  your  love  shall  satisfy  me  ?  Why  must  it 
be  marriage  or  nothing  at  all  \ "  and  she  drew 
closer  to  him,  for  they  were  on  the  narrow 
pathway  going  towards  the  farm,  and  not  a 
soul  was  within  sight  nor  sound  of  them. 
"  Why  can't  we  be  friends — very  dear  friends 
— all  our  lives?  We  might  be  just  like 
brother  and  sister — you  never  had  a  sister  of 
your  very  own " 

"Nonsense,"  he  said,  and  put  his  arm 
round  her  shoulder,  but  she  shook  it  off 
quickly.  "  People  cannot  be  brothers  and  sis- 
ters, my  child,  when  they  are  in  love  with 
each  other." 

"Oh,  but  they  can;  and  they  can  be 
friends.  Think  how  much  better  it  would  be 
than    nothing— nothing !      And    if    we    can't 


256  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

marry,  and  we  can't — for  I  don't  want  to  be 
married,  and  can't  be ;  and  it  is  better  to  be 
free — we  might  be  friends."  She  was  almost 
incoherent  with  nervousness.  "  Very  dear 
friends — we  could  always  be  that — and  we 
could  write  to  each  other  very  often,  and  tell 
each  other  everything  we  did  and  thought  and 
read,  and  be  everything  in  the  world  that  two 
people  parted  by  long  miles  can  be." 

"All  this  is  nonsense,  Kathy.  You  don't 
know  what  you  are  talking  about,  my  darling. 
What  you  say  may  be  all  very  well  for  two 
friends  who  desire  to  be  nothing  more ;  but 
you  and  I  love  each  other — at  least  I  know 
that  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart,"  he  said 
simply.  "  I  want  you  to  come  to  me,  to  share 
my  life,  to  be  with  me  always.  And  if  you 
loved  me  you  would  want  it  too." 

They  were  within  sight  of  the  farm,  and 
stopped  and  looked  at  each  other ;  then  sat 
down  on  the  little  bank  beside  the  pathway. 

"  I  love  you,  and  I  do  want  it  too,"  she  said 
earnestly.     "But  I  cannot  marry  you,  and — I 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  257 

think,"  she  added,  bursting  into  passionate 
tears,  "that  marriage  is  the  most  hateful  and 
terrible  thing  in  the  world." 

"  Well,  that  is  rather  an  odd  thing  to  hear 
the  woman  you  love  best  in  the  world  say. " 

"  I  mean  the  ceremony  that  binds  you  so 
that  you  can  never  get  away,  no  matter  how 
much  you  hate  each  other,  nor  how  miserable 
you  are  together.  If  you  love  each  other  and 
promise  to  be  faithful  all  your  lives " — she 
stood  up  in  her  excitement  and  looked  at  him 
— "  promise  with  your  whole  heart  and  soul, 
oughtn't  that  to  bind  you  ?  And  yet  it 
doesn't.  People  talk  of  making  their  vows 
before  G-od — doesn't  God  hear  you  when  you 
are  alone  \ " 

"Katherine,"  he  said,  staring  at  her  with 
astonishment,  "I  don't  understand  this  out- 
burst. What  on  earth  has  make  you  think 
so  much  about  the  marriage  ceremony  ?  " 

"  Because  I  hate  it,"  she  said.  " Because 
it  is  an  excuse  to  bind  two  people  together 
who  want  to  be  separate,  and  it  fetters  them 


258  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

when  they  want  to  be  free.  Jim,"  she  went 
on  in  a  whisper  while  a  flush  dyed  her  face, 
"is  not  this  morning — should  not  the  memory 
of  it  be  enough  to  satisfy  us  ?  We  can  never 
get  away  from  it  or  forget  it  as  long  as  we  live. 
Isn't  it  much  more  than  the  bond  between  two 
people  who  have  stood  up  in  church  together 
and  said  things  they  did  not  mean  ?  Don't  you 
think  God  heard  us  just  as  much  saying  the 
things  we  did  mean  as  he  would  have  heard 
two  people  saying  the  things  they  did  not 
mean?  And  which  do  you  think  would  be 
marriage  in  his  eyes  ? " 

u  I  do  not  understand  you,"  he  answered. 
"You  are  talking  nonsense,  and  not  very 
pleasant  nonsense,  my  child.  The  marriage 
ceremony  may  be  only  the  public  record  of 
the  vows  that  people  have  made  each  other 
in  private ;  but  it  was  made  by  the  strong  for 
the  protection  of  the  weak,  and  the  strong 
must  protect  it.  I  have  no  sympathy  with 
fads  about  marriage  nor  with  any  crusade 
against    those    things    that    experience    has 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  259 

taught  men  to*be  best  for  the  majority.  Come, 
let  us  go."  He  turned  towards  the  farm,  and 
with  burning  cheeks  she  followed  him. 

The  bottle  was  filled  with  cream  for  the 
afternoon  tea.  They  refused  the  bowls  of 
cream  the  milkmaid  offered  them,  and  turned 
on  their  way  homeward  in  silence. 

"It  is  the  oddest  thing  in  the  world,"  he 
thought,  "that  she  should  go  off  her  head 
about  the  marriage  ceremony.  Some  women 
are  rather  too  eager  for  it.  Perhaps  the  Ogre 
wasn't  happy  in  his  domestic  relations." 
Somehow  her  talk  had  repelled  him.  He 
liked  a  woman  who  reverenced  forms  and 
ceremonies  ;  he  even  liked  her  to  be  a  little 
superstitious.  "What  put  all  that  stuff  in 
your  head  about  marriage?"  he  asked  ;  "you 
couldn't  have  spoken  more  vehemently  if  you 
had  had  a  drunken  husband  who  beat  you 
every  Saturday  night." 

"Ah,"  she  said  eagerly,  "now  you  have 
touched  it.  Suppose  a  woman  has  a  drunken 
husband  who  beats  her  on  Saturday  nights,  a 


260  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

man  she  doesn't  love  and  has  never  loved,  but 
has  married  for  some  other  reason ;  or  if  a 
man  has  a  bad  and  wicked  woman  for  a  wife, 
not  a  woman  he  has  once  loved,  and  so  for  the 
sake  of  that  remembrance  is  willing  to  bear 
with,  are  they  to  stay  together  and  be  miser- 
able all  their  lives  ? " 

."Yes,   I  think  so,"  he  answered  slowly; 
"if  they  had  not  cared  for  each  other  they 

should  not  have  married " 

"Oh,  yes,  yes  ;  I  agree  in  that." 
"But  having  done  so,  no  matter  for  what 
reason,  I  think  they  are  bound  to  remain  to- 
gether if  it  is  in  any  way  possible,  for  the 
more  terrible,  the  more  sacred,  and  the  more 
binding  you  can  make  marriage,  so  gradually 
will  you  increase  the  respect  for  it.  I  neither 
believe  in  easy  marriage  nor  in  easy  divorce 
myself.  Just  as  the  soldier  is  sacrificed  for 
the  battle,  so  must  the  everyday  individual 
be  sacrificed  for  the  sake  of  the  institution 
that  has  been  found  to  work  best  and  to  be 
best  for  the  majority.     Katherine,"  he  said 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  261 

suddenly,  "I  hope  you  haven't  been  talk- 
ing with  any  of  the  unpleasant  women 
who  tell  you  that  men  are  wicked  and  that 
women  are  men's  superiors,  and  all  the  rest  of 
it?" 

"No,"  answered  Katherine,  wonderstruck, 
"I  don't  even  know  what  you  mean.  I  think 
men  and  women  too,  as  a  rule,  are  very  dear 
and  good.  All  that  I  have  known  or  seen, 
with  one  exception"  —  and  her  lips  turned 
white,  but  still  he  was  unsuspicious,  "have 
been.  Men  and  women  are  just  as  good  as 
each  other,  it  seems  to  me,  though,  of  course, 
the  men  are  stronger  and  wiser  than  the 
women — at  least,"  she  said,  looking  up  with 
the  quick  smile  he  loved,  "it's  nicer  when 
they  are  ;  it  makes  them  able  to  take  care  of 
us :  I  can't  think  of  anything  better  in  the 
world  than  being  taken  care  of  by  anyone — 
the  man,"  she  added  shyly,  "you  love  best  in 
the  world." 

"And  you  don't  know  ten  thousand  people 
who  have  all  married  miserably  % "  he  asked 


2G2  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

joyously,  for  it  seemed  as  if  things  were  com- 
ing round  to  the  point  he  wished. 

"No,"  she  said,  with  a  little  sorry  laugh, 
"I  knew  of  one  miserable  marriage,  but  the 
others,"  and  she  thought  of  the  Oswells  and 
of  George  and  Alice  Alford,  uhave  been  per- 
fectly happy.  In  England  I  used  to  walk 
about  alone  and  look  at  the  people  two  and 
two,  always  a  man  and  a  woman,  and  think 
how  glad  they  seemed  to  be  together." 

' 'As  we  will  be,  my  sweet,  when  we  are 
married,"  he  said,  and  made  a  sudden  snatch 
as  if  to  take  her  in  his  arms  and  kiss  her. 

"Oh,  no,"  she  cried,  "never  as  long  as 
we  live ! "  and  in  her  fright  she  dropped  the 
bottle  of  cream  out  of  her.  basket.  It  fell  at 
their  feet  and  was  broken.  They  looked  at  it 
in  silence  for  a  moment,  and  swift  as  lightning 
her  thoughts  went  back  to  the  day  when  she 
had  dropped  the  bowl  of  flowers.  It  had  al- 
ways seemed  to  her,  in  looking  back,  that 
upon  that  day  her  childhood  ended  ;  it  flashed 
upon  her  that  perhaps  on  this  day  too  there 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  263 

ended  something  in  her  life — something  that 
would  never  come  again. 

He  looked  up  and  met  her  eyes.  "Never 
mind  the  cream,"  he  said,  almost  indignantly, 
"  that  does  not  matter,  but  I  do  not  under- 
stand you,  Katherine.  Do  you  mean  to  say 
that  it  can  never  be  % " 

"No,  never,"  she  answered.  "But  cannot 
we  be  friends  % "  she  pleaded. 

"No,  we  cannot,"  he  answered  decisively. 
"That  means — at  worst,  what  I  do  not  even 
choose  to  mention  to  you " 

"But,  at  best?" 

"  Something  that  may  be  satisfactory  for 
one,  but  never  is  for  two.  I  shall  go  away  to- 
morrow or  the  next  day,"  he  said  curtly,  as 
they  entered  the  hotel,  but  she  made  no  an- 
swer, only  looked  round  at  him  as  they  went 
upstairs. 

"I  am  going  to  lie  down,"  she  said,  "and 
shall  not  come  in  to  dinner  to-night,  but  I  will 
see  you  both  afterwards  in  the  sitting-room ; 
perhaps  there  will  be  a  fire,"  she  added,  with  a 


264  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

little  shiver,  as  she  disappeared  from  his  sight. 
Then  she  went  into  her  room  once  more,  and 
sat  down  feeling  that  she  had  only  made  him 
love  her  less,  and  widened  the  distance  between 
them.  "  It  is  no  good,"  she  thought  bitterly  ; 
"  my  life  is  my  own;  I  have  to  suffer  all  its 
pain,  and  yet  I  cannot  fashion  it  as  I  like.  I 
might  as  well  try  to  shape  water  with  my 
hands.  A  little  life  like  mine,  too.  The  secret 
of  the  world  seems  to  be  that  one  has  to  sub- 
mit to  the  powers  that  are  stronger  than  one- 
self ;  no  matter  how  much  one's  heart  longs  to 
fight  them,  and  it's  the  most  terrible  thing  on 
earth  to  do  wrong,  for  sin  is  like  a  ball  passing 
from  hand  to  hand,  changing  its  shape  and 
colour  as  it  goes  along.  If  only  Richard  Mor- 
ris had  not  done  wrong  Uncle  Robert  would 
not  have  been  so  stern,  nor  have  married  me  to 
Mr.  Belcher  ;  and  if  Mr.  Belcher  had  not  been 
cruel  I  should  not  have  run  away  and  deceived 
the  Mummy  and  Jim."  She  stood  up  and  con- 
sidered it,  looking  out  at  the  plains  in  the  dis- 
tance.    "I  think  I  understand,"  she  said  to 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  265 

herself  at  last.  "The  great  laws  of  life  are 
our  masters  and  avenge  themselves  terribly  on 
those  who  dare  to  tamper  with  them.  Only  I 
have  been  so  happy,"  she  went  on,  a  little 
gratitude  coming  into  her  eyes,  uand  I  don't 
care— I  don't  care  what  comes  of  it.  I  have 
had  a  flash  of  summer  right  across  my  life.  I 
should  never  have  known  it  if  I  had  not  come 
here  or  if  they  had  known.  Oh !  think, 
think  !  "  she  exclaimed,  clasping  her  hands, 
"  what  it  would  have  been  to  have  lived  all  my 
life  and  to  have  loved  no  one.  I  ought  to  be 
very  thankful  for  this  that  has  come  into  my 
heart."  A  sudden  idea  smote  her  as  though  it 
came  from  Heaven.  "And  I  will  make  it  a 
thank-offering,"  she  said  slowly,  ua  thank- 
offering  that  shall  try  me  sorely  and  cost  me 
much,  but  I  will  do  it  as  a  proof  of  the 
strength  of  the  love  I  bear  him."  She  sat 
down  still  and  silent  for  half  an  hour  ;  a  great 
resolution  took  possession  of  her,  and  she  de- 
termined that  nothing  should  tempt  her  to  go 
from  it. 


266  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

She  got  up  and  made  some  tea  for  Miss 
Bennett. 

"Miss  Kerr,"  the  sick  woman  said,  "these 
people  downstairs  are  very  inattentive,  though 
I  have  paid  their  bill.  I  shall  leave  to-morrow 
morning,  and  have  ordered  the  chair  to  carry 
me  down  and  the  mule  for  my  baggage.  If 
you  could  come  a  day  later,  I  would  wait  for 
you  at  Mendrisio  ?  " 

It  was  an  unexpected  stroke  of  good  for- 
tune. "  But  I  will  go  with  you  to-morrow," 
she  exclaimed,  "as  early  as  you  like,  and 
gladly." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Mrs.  Alford  was  alone  when  Katherine 
went  to  her  after  dinner.  Jim  had  gone  for  a 
stroll  by  himself :  it  was  a  sign  of  the  changed 
state  of  things  that  he  had  done  so. 

"He  will  be  back  directly,"  his  mother 
said  apologetically,  and  sat  down  by  the  fire 
and  warmed  her  hands  in  silence.  Katherine 
crouched  on  a  low  stool  at  her  feet,  and  watch- 
ing the  crackling  wood.  Presently  she  looked 
up. 

"  Mummy,"  she  said,  "  while  you  were  at 
dinner  I  put  all  your  things  tidy,  and  your  tea- 
basket  is  back  in  your  room.  Is  there  any- 
thing else  I  can  do  for  you  this  evening  ?  To- 
morrow I  am  going  away  with  Miss  Bennett." 
She  kissed  the  old  lady's  hand  as  if  to  soften 
the  news  of  her  sudden  departure. 

(267) 


268  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

" To-morrow! " 

"  Yes,  to-morrow,"  Katherine  repeated  sad- 
ly. "  There  is  no  one  else  to  take  care  of  her. 
She  needs  me  ;  you  have  Jim." 

"He  needs  you  too.  I  don't  know  what 
there  is  in  your  heart,  my  dear,  except  that 
it  is  something  you  are  keeping  from  me.  I 
think  you  might  have  trusted  me.  I  have 
been  very  fond  of  you." 

"  And  I  of  you,  dear  Mummy." 

"  Then  why  should  you  go  ?  You  said  you 
were  fond  of  Jim :  I  hoped  you  were,  but  he 
has  told  me  about  this  afternoon.  He  never 
loved  any  other  woman  in  his  life — I  thought 
you  cared  for  him." 

"I  do,"  she  whispered.  "  I  love  him  with 
all  my  heart,  and  think  there  is  no  one  like 
him  in  the  world.  The  mere  sound  of  his  step 
makes  my  heart  beat,  and  to  hear  his  voice 
and  see  his  face  are  life  and  happiness  to  me." 

"Then  why  don't  you  marry  him,  my  dar- 
ling?" the  old  lady  said,  taking  her  in  her 
arms. 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  269 

"  I  can't,  I  can't,"  and  she  crouched  down 
on  her  stool  again  and  looked  into  the  fire. 

Then  Jim  entered,  and  Mrs.  Alford 
turned  to  him  quickly,  longing  to  bring  about 
an  acute  crisis  of  some  sort.  "Katherine  is 
going  away  to-morrow,"  she  said,  " she*  and 
Miss  Bennett  together." 

"  To-morrow  \ "  he  echoed. 

"  Yes,  and  I  want  to  say  good-bye  to-night, 
so  waited  till  you  came."  Then  she  turned  to 
his  mother,  "  You  have  been  very  kind  to  me, 
Mummy.  I  can't  thank  you  now,  but  I  will  all 
my  life  when  I  think  of  you."  She  had  risen 
from  her  stool  and  stood  looking  at  them  both. 

Mrs.  Alford  took  her  hands  and  held  them. 
"  You  have  been  very  kind  to  me,"  she  said, 
"  except  in  going  from  me.  Why  won't  you 
stay,  and  why  can't  you  make  my  son  happy  1 " 
Then  Katherine  stooped  and  kissed  her,  and 
drew  her  hands  awray  and  crossed  to  the  door, 
which  was  shut.  She  had  not  spoken  to  Jim, 
who  waited  awkwardly  by  the  table  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  but  she  gave  him  a  quick 


270  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

look,  and  as  she  did  so  he  saw  that  her  face 
was  pale,  and  her  eyes  had  a  strange  hunted 
look  in  them. 

"Kathy,"  he  said,  "I  didn't  mean  the 
Mammy  to  say  that  to  you,  or  that  you  should 
be  troubled  again  in  any  way.  Say  good-bye 
to  me,  my  dear,  and  God  bless  you."  He  went 
towards  her  and  held  out  his  hand.  She  mo- 
tioned him  back,  and  stood  half  hesitating 
with  her  back  against  the  door,  and  faced  him 
and  the  old  lady. 

"  Wait,"  she  said,  evidently  speaking  with 
difficulty,  "I  want  to  tell  you  before  I  go, 
though  you  will  never  speak  to  me  again  ;  but 
I  made  up  my  mind  this  afternoon  when  we 
came  back  from  the  farm  that  you  should 
know  the  truth.  It  is  better  than  anything 
else — I  make  it  my  thank-offering  for  the  hap- 
piness of  the  past  months."  She  spoke  hur- 
riedly, as  if  she  were  afraid  lest  her  courage 
should  fail  before  she  finished.  "It  is  not  be- 
cause I  don't  want  to  stay  with  you  that  I  am 
going,  or  because — or  because  I  don't  love  Jim. 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  271 

If  I  didn't  it  would  not  matter.  He  is  more 
than  the  whole  world  to  me."  He  made  a  step 
forward,  but  she  put  up  her  hands  as  if  to  keep 
him  back.  "I  am  going  away  because — I — I 
am  married  to  somebody  else." 

"  You  are  married!"  the  old  lady  ex- 
claimed, while  Jim  looked  at  her  as  though  he 
thought  she  were  mad. 

"  Yes,  I  am  married,"  she  said  with  a  gasp 
of  relief  at  having  brought  it  out  at  last.  "  I 
was  made  to  marry,  but  Uncle  Robert  did  it 
for  the  very  best,  I  know  he  did,"  she  added 
gently.  "  He  thought  that  every  woman  ought 
to  be  married.  I  had  no  relations,  and  he  was 
afraid  of  leaving  me  alone  in  the  world.  I 
know  he  did  it  for  the  best,"  she  shuddered  ; 
"he  meant  to  be  kind;  but  I  was  miserable, 
for  I  didn't  love  the  man,  I  never  did  for  a 
single  moment ;  but  I  was  powerless  and  help- 
less, and  had  been  brought  up  to  think  that 
women  were  obliged  to  do  as  men  told  them. 
It  seems  so  weak  and  foolish  to  me  now  since  I 
have  realised  that  we  have  each  to  live  our  own 

18 


272  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

lives  and  to  choose  the  great  things  in  them  for 
ourselves." 

"But  whom  did  you  marry?"  Mrs.  Alford 
asked,  bewildered. 

"A  friend  of  Uncle  Robert's,"  Katherine 
answered,  speaking  in  the  manner  of  a  hunted 
woman  who  had  been  brought  to  bay  at  last. 
"I  had  known  him  since  I  was  a  little  girl. 
He  was  a  great  deal  older  than  I — eighteen 
years,  I  think— and  I  didn't  want  to  marry 
him,  and  told  him  so." 

"  Was  he  so  much  in  love  with  you  ? "  Jim 
asked. 

"No,"  she  answered  sadly,  shaking  her 
head.  It  would  be  mean  and  ungenerous,  she 
thought,  seeing  that  Mr.  Belcher  was  not  there 
to  defend  himself,  to  explain  wholly  how  cruel 
he  had  been— besides,  her  pride  would  not  let 
her  confess  his  blows.  Bat  some  things  she 
felt  bound  to  say  in  self-defence.  "No,  he 
was  not  in  love  with  me,  but  he  knew  that 
Uncle  Eobert  wished  to  see  me  married — and 
he  knew  I  should  have  Uncle  Robert's  money. 


A  FLASH  OF   SUMMER.  273 

He  married  me  for  that.  I  had  no  will  of  my 
own  in  anything,  and  no  one  to  consult — no 
mother  or  sisters  or  friends,  no  one  in  the 
world  except  Uncle  Robert,  who  had  had  a 
great  trouble  about  his  son.  It  made  him  very 
unhappy,  and  he  grew  silent  and  morose,  and 
very  stern,  so  that  he  hardly  took  any  notice 
of  me."  She  said  it  gently,  as  if  to  soften  her 
words.  u  There  was  no  one  else  except  Susan, 
who  said  that  men  were  the  stronger  race,  and 
that  women  must  obey  them.  Oh,  you  can't 
understand,  you  can't  indeed,"  she  cried,  clasp- 
ing her  hands,  and  looking  up  at  Jim.  "I 
could  not  help  myself  in  any  way  ;  I  felt  like  a 
prisoner  who  was  bound  and  had  been  born 
bound.  It  never  even  occurred  to  me  to  make 
a  desperate  struggle  for  freedom.  I  made  a 
little  feeble  one,  but  it  was  useless." 

"But  when  were  you  married?"  Mrs.  Al- 
ford  asked,  still  bewildered,  for  Katherine's 
story  sounded  so  impossible.  "You  were  so 
very  young." 

"  I  was  eighteen — it  was  the  most  dreadful 


274  A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

day  of  my  life — and  that  is  what  I  meant,"  she 
went  on,  turning  to  Jim,  "about  the  marriage 
ceremony.  Why  should  words  I  did  not  mean 
or  say  willingly  bind  me  ?  And  why  should  he 
be  able  without  offence  to  any  law  at  all  to 
marry  me,  not  because  he  wanted  me  but  be- 
cause he  wanted  Uncle  Robert's  money  ?  There 
is  something  very  wrong  somewhere  that  such 
a  thing  should  be  possible,"  she  said  passion- 
ately. "It  ought  to  be  the  bitterest  sin,  the 
most  terrible  disgrace,  to  marry  for  any  reason 
on  earth  except  because  you  want  to  spend 
your  whole  lives  together,  and  care  for  each 
other  with  all  your  hearts." 

"  That  is  the  only  reason  an  honest  man 
does  marry,"  he  exclaimed. 

"I  have  thought  about  it  so  much,"  she 
went  on  vehemently,  as  if  she  had  not  heard 
him,  uhour  after  hour  as  I  sat  in  the  next 
room  looking  across  the  plains  of  Lombardy. 
People  who  would  be  afraid  to  cheat  or  com- 
mit crimes  for  which  they  would  be  put  in 
prison  will  take  a  false  oath  in  a  church  and 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  275 

say  things  they  do  not  dream  of  meaning,  and 
never  seem  to  have  it  on  their  conscience.  Is 
it  because  they  think  God  will  not  tell  their 
fellow-men,  or  does  not  hear  them,  or  because 
they  think  that  truth  and  honour  have  little  to 
do  with  marriage  % '  - 

"  Katherine  ! "  Mrs.  Alford  exclaimed,  look- 
ing at  her  with  astonishment. 

"  Yes,  Mummy,"  the  girl  continued  breath- 
lessly, "  I  have  thought  and  thought  till  I  have 
been  nearly  mad.  People  ought  to  hesitate 
and  think  a  great  deal — unless  they  love  each 
other  so  much  that  there  can  be  no  doubt  at  all 
about  it — before  they  vow  their  whole  lives  to 
each  other.  I  think  each  one  should  go  alone 
and  make  a  declaration  before  some  official  that 
they  want  to  marry,  so  that  they  are  very  sure 
of  themselves.  Even  if  they  are  not  terribly  in 
love — perhaps  all  people  cannot  be — they  ought 
to  like  each  other  best  in  the  world  and  want 
to  be  together.  And  the  ceremony  should  be 
the  most  sacred  thing  on  earth — the  most  bind- 
ing and  the  most  blessed — and  nothing  should 


276  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

undo  it,  not  even  death,  between  people  who 
have  been  faithful  and  happy  together  and 
loved  each  other  all  the  time.  When  one  dies, 
the  other  should  die  too,  or  else  should  live 
doing  what  the  other  had  left  undone.  But 
now,  marriage,  on  which  one's  whole  happiness 
depends,  is  a  careless,  easy  thing,  done  for 
money  or  from  fear,  or  because  of  a  sudden 
fancy,  as  if  it  lasted  a  month  instead  of  a  life- 
time, and  it  is  a  mere  chance  whether  it  makes 
for  joy  or  sorrow — just  a  toss-up." 

"But  all  marriages  are  not  as  you  say," 
Mrs.  Alford  said  coldly,  and  still  bewildered 
by  Katherine's  confession. 

"  No,  dear  Mummy,  they  are  not,  but  many 
are ;  and  even  one  in  a  town  should  be  a  dis- 
grace— like  murder.  It  is  worse  than  murder, 
for  it  lasts  longer.  Mr.  Belcher  married  me 
because  he  wanted  Uncle  Robert's  money,  not 
because  he  loved  me  ;  and  I  married  him  be- 
cause I  was  helpless  and  afraid  of  Uncle 
Robert ;  and  I  was  young — only  a  school-girl 
— and  no  companion  for  him,  and  he  was  none 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  277 

for  me.  We  were  just  two  strangers  living 
in  the  same  house.  I  was  in  his  way,  as  a 
stranger  is ;  he  resented  it  when  he  saw  me, 
and  lived  his  own  life,  so  far  as  he  could,  with- 
out me." 

"Why  didn't  you  try  to  love  him?"  Mrs. 
Alford  asked  sternly.  "  He  was  your  hus- 
band." 

"I  did,  I  did!"  she  said  in  a  despairing 
tone,  "but  it  was  useless.  All  my  life  I  had 
been  afraid  of  him,  had  never  even  liked  him. 
I  can't  explain  what  life  was  with  him.  Per- 
haps it  was  all  my  fault — only  I  know  this, 
that  I  was  the  most  miserable  girl  in  the  wide 
world.  One  day,"  she  went  on  quickly,  "he 
told  me  he  was  going  away  for  a  week.  He 
had  been  very  cruel " 

"  Cruel  ? "  repeated  Jim  in  a  low  voice. 

"Yes,"  answered  Katherine.  "Perhaps  I 
ought  not  to  say  things  against  him  while  he  is 
not  here,  but  he  was  cruel — cruel,  and  he  went 
away.  I  was  nearly  mad  and  hated  him — I 
never  did    anything    else  but  hate  him   and 


278  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

shudder  at  his  voice.  When  he  had  gone — 
Uncle  Robert  had  started  for  Australia — I  ran 
away.  Yes,  I  did,  Mummy,"  and  the  tears 
ran  down  her  face.  "  Uncle  Robert  gave  me 
some  money  before  he  went  to  Australia,  and 
Mrs.  Barrett  left  me  some,  and  I  ran  away. 
That  was  how  you  found  me  on  board  ship. 
Alice  never  guessed  I  was  married.  I  had 
thrown  my  wedding-ring  into  the  sea " 

"You  should  have  told  me,"  Mrs.  Alford 
said. 

"  I  couldn't.  I  was  afraid.  I  have  thought 
sometimes,"  she  went  on,  for  she  reproached 
herself  concerning  Mr.  Belcher  now  that  she 
had  put  his  conduct  into  words,  "that  he 
meant  to  be  kinder  after  we  were  married  ;  but 
he  was  so  much  older,  and  I  was  such  a  school- 
girl in  mind,  and  he  knew  that  I  did  not  love 
him,  for  I  had  told  him  so,  and  gradually  he 
learnt  to  hate  me  because  he  couldn't  get  rid  of 
me — that  was  what  I  meant,  to-day,  Jim,"  she 
said,  turning  to  him  again.  "  I  don't  mean  to 
scoff  at  marriage,  but  I  never  felt  that  I  was 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  279 

married  to  Mr.  Belcher  at  all,  and  I  don't  now, 
only  that  I  was  his  prisoner,  and  I  can't  feel 
that  I  have  been  very  wicked  except  in  not 
telling  you  before." 

"  You  told  me  that  you  loved  my  son,"  Mrs. 
Alford  said. 

"  Yes,  dear  Mummy,  and  I  do,"  she  answered 
in  a  low,  sweet  voice.  "I  love  him  with  all 
my  heart,  and  shall  as  long  as  I  live— but  I 
would  not  say  it  if  I  ever  meant  to  see  him 
again  after  to-night.  I  thought  we  could  be 
friends,  but  I  see  now  that  he  is  right  in  say- 
ing that  it  is  impossible.  You  must  not 
think,"  she  added  as  Mrs.  Alford  made  a  ges- 
ture of  indignation,  "that  I  mean  any  harm, 
for  I  think  the  greatest  insult  to  love  is  to  de- 
face it  with  wickedness.  And  Jim  was  quite 
right  to-day  when  he  said  we  were  all  bound  to 
respect  those  laws  that  were  found  to  work 
best  for  mankind,  and  that  each  individual 
must  abide  by  them,  no  matter  how  hard  they 
are  ;  just  as  a  soldier  must  die  in  battle  for  the 
sake  of  his  country.     I  have  expressed  it  all 


A  FLASH  OP  SUMMER. 

so  badly,  but  I  have  thought  about  it,  and 
thought  about  it  day  and  night,  and  I  will  try 
and  do  what  is  right  always,  for  the  sake  of 
you  and  Jim." 

"Then,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Alford  solemn- 
ly? "you  will  let  your  husband  know  your 
whereabouts  \ " 

Poor  Katherine's  heart  called  out  dumbly, 
"  Oh,  I  knew,  I  knew  she  would  say  it !  "  But 
she  answered  firmly,  "No,  Mummy,  I  can- 
not." 

"No,  of  course  she  can't,"  said  Jim  indig- 
nantly, and  then  he  turned  to  Katherine. 
"My  darling,"  he  said,  "everything  is,  and 
must  be,  at  an  end  between  us  in  one  way,  but 
I  shall  love  you  as  long  as  I  live,  and  we  will 
try  to  be  friends  or  like  brother  and  sister,"  he 
added  desperately. 

"No,"  she  answered,  shaking  her  head. 
"That  cannot  be  now.  I  do  not  think,"  she 
added  in  a  whisper,  "  that  it  would  satisfy  me. 
I  want  you  to  love  me  so  much,  much  more 
that  it  would  be  wrong — it  is  better  that  we 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  281 

should  be  strangers— just  hearing  from  each 
other  now  and  then,"  she, added  wistfully. 

"It's  such  a  frightful  puzzle,  such  a  hole 
for  you  to  be  in,  my  poor  darling." 

"You  mustn't  call  me  that,"  she  said  in  a 
tone  of  happy  fright.  "  If  you  only  won't 
think  badly  of  me,  that  is  all  I  want.  And  if 
I  love  you  when  you  are  in  India— so  far  away 
as  that,  it  will  seem  like  a  religion  and  become 
beautiful.  Talk  it  all  over  with  the  Mummy, 
Jim  dear,  and  when  you  have  thought  it  out, 
perhaps  you  or  she  will  write  to  me."  And 
before  they  knew  what  she  was  going  to  do 
she  had  opened  the  door  and  vanished  from 
their  sight. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Alassio  is  a  very  little  place  on  the  Italian 
Riviera,  half-way  between  Savona  and  San 
Remo.  Inside  the  town  gates  are  only  a 
couple  of  narrow  streets,  worn  into  ruts  like 
the  streets  of  Pompeii,  hardly  wide  enough  to 
let  two  well-loaded  donkeys  pass  each  other 
comfortably,  a  little  square  market-place,  a  few 
primitive  shops,  and  a  couple  of  hotels  that 
have  seen  better  days.  Beyond  the*  gates  are 
two  or  three  fairly  new  hotels,  the  old  pictur- 
esque church  with  its  square  towers,  a  few 
villas,  and,  a  little  way  above  them,  the  Protest- 
ant church  built  by  a  handful  of  devout  Eng- 
lish. Dotted  about  on  the  mountain  sides  at 
irregular  intervals  are  more  villas,  and  here 
and  there  a  shrine  or  ruined  chapel.     In  and 

(282) 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  283 

out  the  olive  woods  towards  Albenga,  the  next 
town  to  Alassio,  winds  a  narrow  Roman  road, 
along  which  Hannibal  is  said  to  have  led  his 
followers  into  Southern  Italy. 

But  though  Alassio  is  a  pleasant  enough 
place  to  the  idler  or  the  invalid,  or  to  the 
romantic  in  search  of  the  picturesque,  it  has 
no  attractions  for  the  frivolous  or  fashionable. 
When  Katherine  and  Miss  Bennett  journeyed 
there,  it  was  known  to  very  few  English  folk, 
and  they  kept  its  beauty  a  secret  to  them- 
selves. It  is  on  one  side  of  a  bay,  as  if  it  had 
dropped  there  gracefully  and  quite  by  acci- 
dent ;  and  a  little  way  off— a  mile  or  two,  per- 
haps— is  the  village  of  Laigueglia,  which  might 
be  Alassio's  only  child  keeping  respectfully  at 
a  distance  from  its  parent.  These  two  have 
the  bay  to  themselves,  and  all  along  the  shore 
are  really  fine  sands  on  which  the  children 
seek  for  Venus's  slippers,  and  play  among  the 
boats  and  the  brown  sails  and  fishing-nets 
hung  out  to  dry.  Close  behind,  in  a  grand 
semicircle  are  the  mountains ;  there  is  no  plain 


284  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

between  them  and  the  sea,  save  the  sands  and 
as  much  ground  as  is  necessary  for  the  little 
town  to  stand  upon,  and  there  is  no  visible 
break  in  their  chain.  Besides  the  sand  and 
the  sea  and  the  mountains  there  are  the  olive- 
woods  and  the  maidenhair  valley,  and  the 
Banxia  roses  and  the  red  berries  of  the  sarsa- 
parilla,  and  the  acacia  carubas,  which  are 
especially  line,  and  the  palms  and  the  pepper- 
trees  and  the  oranges  that  grow  thick  as  apples 
in  Devonshire,  and  the  lemons  thriving  so  well 
that  five  millions  of  them  are  gathered  every 
year  in  the  district.  And  there  are  bits  of 
colour  and  patches  of  light,  and  bells  that  ring 
by  fits  and  starts,  and  clocks  that  strike  at  odd 
moments,  and  a  few  well-to-do  Italians,  and 
many  peasant  folk,  pleasant  to  talk  with  and 
picturesque  to  look  at— all  these,  with  the  sun- 
shine everywhere,  make  up  the  beauty  of 
Alassio. 

At  the  end  towards  Albenga,  Miss  Crockett 
kept  a  little  pension  in  a  villa  that  looked  like 
a  Swiss  chalet.     It  was  almost  the  last  house 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  285 

in  Alassio,  and  had  a  garden  full  of  orange- 
trees  and  pepper- trees,  and  geraniums  that 
grew  half  as  high  as  a  man.  Behind  were  the 
sands  and  the  sea,  and  in  front  was  a  high 
road.  On  the  other  side  of  the  road  was 
a  mountain  covered  with  olive  woods  and 
crowned  by  a  ruined  church  that  had  a  history 
about  a  princess  who  had  built  it  as  a  thank- 
offering  for  having  married  her  lowly  born 
lover.  To  the  right  stretched  the  white  Cor- 
niche  road  on  its  way  to  Albenga  and  the 
towns  beyond  ;  and  to  the  left  it  went  past  the 
villas  and  the  church  and  the  Grand  Hotel, 
and  the  turning  to  the  station,  on  to  the  town 
gates,  through  the  town  and  out  by  the  gates, 
at  the  other  end,  past  an  hotel  built  low  down 
on  the  water's  edge,  and  on,  beside  the  railway 
line  and  the  great  yellow  sands  and  the  blue 
sea,  to  Laigueglia. 

Miss  Bennett  was  staying  at  Miss  Crockett's 
pension.  The  two  women  had  known  and  dis- 
liked each  other  all  their  lives.  They  had 
both  been  governesses.       Miss    Bennett    had 


286  A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

broken  down  from  ill-health;  Miss  Crockett 
had  done  the  same  years  before,  but  she  was 
better,  and  had  been  helped  by  some  old  pupils 
to  start  the  pension  by  which  she  managed  to 
make  a  living.  She  was  never  sure  of  filling 
all  her  rooms,  so  was  glad  to  take  Miss  Bennett 
even  at  a  moderate  price,  and  Miss  Bennett 
thought  it  was  better  to  be  with  her  than  with 
a  stranger.  She  had  never  pretended  to  like 
Miss  Crockett  or  to  hold  to  her  methods  of 
teaching,  so  she  knew  that  too  much  civility 
would  not  be  expected  of  her.  Thus  it  was 
they  came  together  with  a  certain  amount  of 
congratulation,  but  with  little  sympathy  on 
either  side.  Miss  Bennett's  strength  seemed 
to  be  vanishing  with  the  year  :  she  gave  more 
trouble  than  other  boarders,  but  by  way  of 
compensation  she  ate  less.  The  soft  Italian 
air  was  doing  her  good  and  putting  her  into  a 
friendly  humour  with  the  world— though  not 
with  its  people— before  she  said  good-bye. 
Her  room  was  a  front  one  facing  the  roadway 
and  the  mountain  ;   for  those  that  faced  the 


A   FLASH  OF   SUMMER.  287 

sea  at  the  back  were  dearer  and  beyond  her 
means ;  she  could  see  the  trains  flashing 
among  the  olive  woods  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  when  she  sat  at  the  window — the 
train  from  the  Italian  frontier  going  on  to 
Genoa,  and  the  train  from  Genoa  going  back 
to  the  frontier.  The  people  in  them  were  seek- 
ing health  or  pleasure  ;  it  was  always  the  same 
story,  just  as  it  had  been  at  Generoso.  She 
used  to  look  at  them  grudgingly,  wondering 
who  was  left  to  work,  and  who  sat  still  to  sor- 
row, for  the  world  about  her  seemed  to  be 
given  up  to  pleasure- taking  or  leisure.  Well, 
it  didn't  matter.  Soon  she  would  be  away 
from  it  all,  and  the  world  might  go  on  as 
it  pleased.  She  had  enough  money,  Miss 
Crockett  was  not  likely  to  over-charge  or 
neglect  her,  Katherine  came  to  see  her  every 
day:  she  liked  Katherine,  liked  her  better 
lately  since  her  face  had  grown  white  and  thin 
and  very  sad.  A  grim  satisfaction  came  into 
her  eyes  as  she  noticed  it :  the  girl  was  being 
made  to  pay,  she  thought,  as  all  people  who 

19 


288  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

lived  in  the  world  and  dared  to  bid  for  happi- 
ness were  made  to  pay  at  some  time. 

"Is  there  nothing  more  I  can  do — nothing, 
nothing  else  ? "  she  would  ask  Miss  Bennett 
before  she  left  her  till  the  morrow.  And  the 
answer  was  always  the  same. 

"No,  thank  you,  and  it  would  be  better  to 
get  used  to  having  nothing  at  all  done  for  me, 
I  don't  want  to  be  sorry  to  die." 

"Ah,  we  must  all  be  that  while  the  sun 
shines  and  the  trees  have  leaves  and  there  is 
a  sky  above  our  heads.  I  think  sometimes  I 
would  rather  live  in  the  bitterest  pain  than  be 
dead,"  Katherine  said  one  day. 

"  The  next  world  may  be  better." 

"But  I  long  for  a  share  of  happiness  in 
this  one." 

"Ah,"  answered  Miss  Bennett  grimly,  "  we 
all  do  ;  but  some  of  us  die  of  hunger.  I  think 
you  shall  go  now,"  she  added,  "  but  it  does  me 
good  to  see  you  come  in  of  a  day.  I  can't 
think  why  you  wouldn't  stay  here." 

"I  will  if  you  like,"  Katherine  answered, 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  289 

"  if  it  will  please  you."  It  was  saying  a  great 
deal,  and  she  knew  it,  but  her  heart  ached  so 
much  for  the  dying  woman  that  she  would 
have  done  anything  in  the  world  to  give  her  a 
moment's  pleasure.  It  haunted  her  day  and 
night,  as  a  sort  of  refrain  to  her  own  life  and 
its  anxieties,  that  Miss  Bennett  was  dying, 
that  every  day  she  was  a  little  nearer  to  the 
end  that  was  already  well  in  sight.  She  had 
never  beheld  death,  but  now  instinctively  she 
recognised  it,  and  saw  its  marks  upon  Miss 
Bennett's  grey  face,  and  in  her  eyes  that  had 
grown  large  and  bright  and  eager,  and  her 
hands  that  were  transparent,  and  her  footsteps 
that  lagged  feebly  one  after  the  other  with 
a  pause  between,  as  though  the  grim  shadow 
stooped  and  measured  them. 

Miss  Bennett  considered  Katherine's  ques- 
tion. "  No,"  she  answered,  "  I  think  you  had 
better  stay  where  you  are.  I  know  the  people 
here  now,  and  it  breaks  the  day  better  when 
you  come  in  the  afternoon.  You  are  a  good 
girl.     I  often  wonder  why  you  didn't  marry 


290  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

young  Alford.  Women  should  marry  if  they 
get  the  chance.  It's  a  terrible  thing  when  you 
grow  old  to  feel  that  you  have  missed  the  near 
relationships  of  life.  People  who  have  done 
that  are  only  in  the  way.  Besides,  women 
grow  spiteful  as  they  grow  old  if  they  are  not 
married,  just  as  men  grow  obstinate  and  nar- 
row if  they  are  alone;  each  sex  needs  the 
other  to  leaven  it.  It  is  better  to  be  with  a 
disagreeable  man  than  to  grow  disagreeable 
yourself ! " 

"Oh,  don't  let  us  talk  of  that;  you  don't 
know  how  impossible  it  all  is.  I  wish  I  could 
do  something  more  for  you  before  I  go,  I  do 
so  little !  "  But  Miss  Bennett  had  closed  her 
eyes,  and  did  not  hear.  Katherine,  seeing 
that  she  was  comfortable,  left  the  room  softly 
and  took  her  way  back  to  her  own  lodging. 

She  was  living  at  Laigueglia,  and  was  the 
only  Englishwoman  in  the  village,  which  Miss 
Bennett  had  described  well  enough — a  little, 
quiet  street,  a  white  marble  church  cracked  by 
earthquake,  a  railway  station  at  which  a  train 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  291 

stopped  once  or  twice  a  day,  and  a  few  de- 
serted-looking houses  with  gardens  full  of 
orange-trees ;  that  was  all.  She  had  per- 
suaded a  woman  who  kept  a  little  shop  to  let 
her  have  a  bed-room  and  to  provide  her  with 
the  morning  coffee  and  the  midday  meal ;  the 
rest  she  managed,  with  the  help  of  a  spirit- 
lamp  and  some  tea  and  biscuits,  to  arrange  for 
herself. 

And  here,  alone  from  every  one  who  even 
spoke  her  tongue,  she  tried  to  face  the  prob- 
lem of  life  and  the  future.  She  had  plenty  of 
money  at  the  present  rate  to  last  her  a  year 
or  two.  The  place  was  beautiful  enough,  the 
Mediterranean  and  the  mountains  and  the 
wonderful  vegetation  were  intoxicating ;  but 
they  were  not  enough  to  satisfy  her.  "I 
want  more,"  she  cried  to  herself;  "I  can't  go 
on  for  ever  living  like  this,  or  measure  my 
thoughts  and  longings  by  the  rule  of  right  and 
wrong.  I  want  to  live,  not  merely  to  eat  and 
drink  and  take  up  room  in  the  world  and  do 
nothing — nothing  at  all.      I  am  of  no  use  at 


292  A  FLASH  OP  SUMMER. 

all  now  unless  it  is  to  poor  Miss  Bennett,  and 
she  will  be  gone  soon ;  if  I  were  dead  no  one 
would  care,  hardly  anyone  would  even  know. 
Yes,  Jim  would  be  sorry,  and  perhaps  the 
Mummy."  She  sat  down  on  the  beach  half- 
way between  the  hotel,  low  down  on  the 
water's  edge,  of  which  Miss  Bennett  had  told 
her,  and  Laigueglia.  The  hotel  was  a  long, 
rambling  building,  picturesque  enough,  with  a 
great  orange  garden  to  it,  and  immediately  be- 
hind the  mountains  rose  up  high  and  suddenly 
towards  the  blue  sky.  Hardly  any  one  stayed 
at  the  hotel,  and  the  few  who  did  were  Ital- 
ians. A  man  and  a  woman  were  sitting  in  the 
garden  when  Katherine  passed,  but  she  had 
only  seen  them  in  the  distance.  They  came 
out  from  among  the  orange-trees  now  and 
walked  round  to  the  front  of  the  hotel,  and 
stopped  as  if  they  were  watching  the  sunset. 
Something  made  Katherine  think  that  they 
were  English,  but  she  could  not  see  them  well, 
and  since  the  man  was  certainly  not  Mr. 
Belcher,  whom   she   dreaded,  or  Jim   Alford, 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  293 

for  whom  she  longed,  she  went  on  with  her 
own  thoughts,  idly  stirring  the  sand  with  her 
fingers.  She  felt  that  somehow  she  must  see 
Jim  again ;  she  loved  him  more  and  more 
every  day  of  her  life.  All  space  was  empty ; 
every  sound  seemed  to  echo  in  a  desert ;  the 
hours  dragged  by  and  made  themselves  felt 
to  the  uttermost  second  of  every  minute. 
Beautiful ;  oh,  yes !  the  place  might  be  beau- 
tiful, but  it  was  an  empty  paradise,  and  she 
was  miserable.  All  sorts  of  desperate  things 
she  might  have  done  presented  themselves  to 
her.  "I  wish  I  had  never  told,"  she  cried, 
while  the  b'ue  water  surged  up  to  her  feet  as 
if  to  listen.  "I  might  have  married  him  and 
gone  away  to  India  and  been  happy  all  my 
my  life  and  never  discovered.  It  wasn't  as  if 
he  had  been  going  to  live  in  England.  Why 
didn't  I  think  of  it  and  dare  it?  I  know  I 
could  have  made  him  happy,  and  he  would 
never,  never  have  known.  It  would  have 
done  no  one  any  harm  ;  how  can  a  deed  that 
only  makes  people  happy   and  does  no  one 


294  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

any  harm  be  wrong?  I  can't  understand  it. 
But  I  know  this,  that  I  would  live  a  year 
in  prison  darkness  or  bitterest  pain  for  just 
one  hour  more  with  him,  and  I  shall  never  see 
him  again  as  long  as  I  live.  I  used  to  think 
that  the  mere  fact  of  loving  him  and  thinking 
of  him  would  be  enough  ;  but  it  isn't.  I  want 
to  see  him,  and  hear  him,  and  to  walk  beside 
him.  Oh,  how  wicked  I  am  ! — for  I  want  him 
to  kiss  me  again,  and  it  is  all  over  for  ever 
and  ever,  and  I  have  to  live  to  the  end  of  my 
life  as  best  I  can.  If  we  had  only  been  like 
those  two  people,"  she  thought,  as  she  watched 
the  strangers  saunter  back  to  the  orange-trees, 
"they  look  like  Adam  and  Eve  going  into  the 
Garden  of  Eden.  It  has  always  been  a  man 
and  woman— a  man  and  a  woman — since  the 
world  began.  But  I  have  to  wander  on  and  be 
alone  always,  that  is  my  portion,  and  some 
day  I  shall  be  old  and  discontented,  waiting 
for  death  like  Miss  Bennett,  and  have  had 
nothing  in  life  to  satisfy  me,  and  be  hungry 
and  longing  still.     Jim  will  marry  somebody 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  295 

else  in  time — oh,  to  think  of  him  married  to 
someone  else — someone  who  has  always  been 
happy  and  will  be  happier  still  when  he  loves 
her,  and  she  goes  to  spend  her  whole  life  with 
him — makes  me  feel  as  if  I  want  to  die  before 
it  comes  to  pass."  She  stood  up  and  looked  at 
the  sea — it  seemed  full  of  infinite  wisdom  and 
understanding.  "How  foolish  I  must  seem  to 
you  ! "  she  cried,  holding  out  her  arms  towards 
it.  "  But  I  am  so  miserable  !  I  want  to  be- 
long to  Jim,  to  be  his  wife,  to  spend  all  my 
days  with  him,  and  to  be  buried  in  the  same 
grave  with  him  at  last :  the  chance  was  mine, 
but  those  awful  words  that  I  said,  just  for  lack 
of  courage  to  run  away  from  Uncle  Robert, 
have  made  it  impossible  for  ever.  It  will  never 
be  now — never — never.  I  might  as  well  try  to 
walk  across  you  to  the  horizon  in  the  dis- 
tance." She  turned  away  with  a  long  sigh, 
and  walked  on  towards  Laigueglia,  thinking  of 
the  Mummy's  letter ;  for  she  had  written  to 
Mrs.  Alford  soon  after  she  had  arrived  at  Lai- 
gueglia.    There  had  been  a  fortnight's  long 


296  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

waiting  before  the  answer  came,  and  when  it 
did,  though  it  was  kind  enough,  it  was  firm  in 
its  opinion  that  she  ought  to  go  back  to  her 
husband,  or  to  write  to  her  uncle  in  Australia, 
asking  him  to  arrange  a  separation  that  was 
legal.  "Or,  if  you  like"  the  letter  went  on, 
"and  have  not  courage  to  do  it  before,  as  I 
think  you  ought,  come  to  me  at  the  end  of 
January,  when  Jim  has  gone.  T  shall  be  at 
Chilworth,  and  if  you  like  to  tell  your  hus- 
band to  meet  you  under  my  roof,  I  will  do  my 
best  to  help  you  to  some  arrangement  with 
him."  How  merciless  it  seemed:  she  had  no 
heart  to  answer  it.  Other  reference  to  Jim,  ex- 
cept that  one  about  his  going,  there  had  been 
none  in  it,  but  the  letter  was  dated  from  Milan, 
and  Katherine  divined  that  they  were  on  their 
way  back  to  England.  More  than  a  month 
had  passed  since  it  came,  but  she  could  not 
think  of  it  calmly  :  it  made  her  determine  that 
when  Miss  Bennett  was  gone  she  would  jour- 
ney on  to  some  other  place  that  had  no  mem- 
ory of  the  morning  that  brought  it. 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  297 

She  could  not  go  indoors  yet,  it  was  too 
early.  An  idea  struck  her.  She  would  go. 
back  to  Alassio,  through  the  little  town,  out 
at  the  other  end  and  on  to  Santa  Croce,  and 
see  the  moon  rise  through  a  ruined  doorway — 
all  that  was  left  of  some  old  church  or  monas- 
tery— hidden  among  the  woods  high  up  above 
Albenga.  She  looked  in  at  the  garden  as  she 
passed  the  hotel.  The  strangers  rose  from  a 
seat  among  the  orange-trees  and  suddenly 
faced  her.  With  a  cry  of  fear  she  stood  still, 
for  one  of  them  in  astonishment  darted  to- 
wards her.     It  was  Mrs.  Oswell. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

"  Mrs.  Belcher  !  "  Mrs.  Oswell  darted 
from  her  husband's  side  through  the  little 
gateway  and  stopped  in  astonishment.  Kath- 
erine  stood  spell-bound  and  helpless,  the  tears 
gathering  in  her  eyes  and  her  hands  twisting 
nervously  together  as  she  vainly  tried  to  speak. 
It  was  all  over,  she  was  discovered,  and  going 
to  be  taken  back,  a  prisoner,  to  a  judge  who 
would  be  merciless.  Then  Mrs.  Oswell,  just  as 
if  she  had  divined  her  thoughts,  put  her  arms 
round  the  girl's  neck  and  kissed  her.  "  Don't 
be  afraid,"  she  said.  "I  have  understood  all 
about  it,  and  we  are  not  going  to  telegraph  to 
Mr.  Belcher ;  so  don't  look  at  us  as  if  we  were 
dragons." 

"It  is  all  right,  Mrs.  Belcher,"  Mr.  Oswell 

(298) 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  299 

said  reassuringly  ;  "Bee  and  I  were  very  sorry 
for  you,  and  felt  that  things  must  have  been 
pretty  bad  or  you  wouldn't  have  done  it." 

"Where  is  he?"  Katherine  asked  in  a 
whisper. 

"In  England,  I  suppose,"  Mrs.  Oswell 
answered  in  a  tone  of  distinct  satisfaction. 
"  Let  that  comfort  you.  But  how  did  you  get 
here?  Everyone  thought  you  were  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea,"  she  added  cheerfully ; 
"  your  trunk  turned  up  from  the  wreck  of  an 
American  liner,  and  its  owner  was  supposed  to 
be  drowned." 

"Its  owner?"  Katherine  said,  dazed,  'and 
my  trunk  ?  Oh,  I  remember,  I  gave  it  to  a 
chambermaid  at  Southampton  !  " 

"  Well,  Mr.  Belcher  wears  a  hat-band  for 
you,  and  if  you  leave  him  alone  I  shouldn't  be 
surprised  if  some  fine  day  he  marries  again." 

"Oh!  let  him,"  Katherine  cried,  with  a 
great  throb  of  relief,  "and  don't  tell  him  that 
you  have  found  me.  I  was  never  really  mar- 
ried to  him — I  mean  that  it  was  never  like 


300  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

marriage,"  she  added,  in  answer  to  the  surprise 
on  Mr.  Oswald's  face,  "and  we  were  miserable 
together.  Let  him  live  his  life  as  he  will,  and 
let  me  go  my  own  way." 

" Are  you  alone,  dear?  "  Mrs.  Oswell  asked 
in  a  low  voice. 

" Alone?  "  Katherine  repeated,  not  even  un- 
derstanding the  question.  "  Why,  yes.  I  met 
an  old  friend  on  board  ship  and  made  friends 
with  her  people,"  the  colour  came  to  her  face 
swiftly,  "  but  they  are  not  here.  I  am  by  my- 
self at  Laigneglia,  and  the  only  person  I  know 
is  a  poor  woman  dying  at  Alassio." 

Mrs.  Oswell  put  her  arm  through  Kath- 
erine's.  "Fred,"  she  said  to  her  husband, 
"  let  us  take  her  into  the  hotel  and  make  her 
dine  with  us ;  the  bell  will  ring  directly — she 
wants  cheering  up." 

Almost  before  she  was  aware  of  it,  they  had 
carried  their  point,  and  Katherine  found  her- 
self sitting  with  them  in  the  salle  d  manger  of 
the  hotel.  "And  now,  tell  us  what  you  have 
been  doing  with  yourself  all  this  time."    Mrs. 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  301 

Oswell's  manner  had  not  improved,  though  her 
face  was  as  kindly  as  ever.  "  You  look  as  if 
you  had  been  standing  still  on  one  leg  like  the 
crane  you  once  told  me  about. " 

"  I  have  been  journeying  on  in  the  world  as 
I  always  longed  to  do,"  she  said  with  a  little 
rueful  smile.  "It  is  very  beautiful,  and  the 
people  in  it  have  taught  me  to  be  very  thank- 
ful for  life ;  but  I  have  known  that  an  end 
must  come.  Oh,  do  tell  me,"  she  went  on 
eagerly,  and  yet  even  to  mention  the  name 
frightened  her,  "  if  you  have  seen — him.  And 
what  he  said  and  whether  he  tried  to  find 
me?" 

"  We  will  tell  you  everything,"  Mrs.  Oswell 
answered,  "  as  soon  as  you  have  eaten  some 
dinner.  What  a  good  thing  this  place  is 
empty,  so  that  we  can  talk  in  peace  !  Fred,  do 
hurry  the  waiter.  Oh,  you  have  ordered  some 
champagne — that  was  clever  of  you,  it  will  do 
her  good,  even  if  it  is  bad.  Let  me  see  the 
label — I  declare  we  are  lucky  !  No,  my  dear 
Katherine,  I  have  not  seen  Mr.  Belcher,  but 


302  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

Fred  has,  two  or  three  times.  I  have  seen 
your  aunt " 

"  My  aunt !     I  haven't  one." 

"Yes,  you  have,"  Mrs.  Oswell  answered 
triumphantly.  "  Your  uncle  went  to  Australia 
to  look  after  his  son's  wife  and  two  boys  ;  and 
it  seems  that  a  Frenchwoman  who  lived  in  the 
same  house  in  Gower  Street  insisted  on  going 
too." 

"The  artfulness  of  women  is  amazing,"  said 
Mr.  Oswell. 

"  Only  when  they  are  French,  Fred  dear. 
Well,  when  they  got  to  Melbourne  it  turned 
out  that  the  boys  were  alive  and  the  mother 
was  dead.  So  your  uncle  married  the  French- 
woman, and  they  all  came  back  together,  and 
are  living  happy  ever  after." 

"I  can't  imagine  Uncle  Robert  married," 
Katherine  said  in  amazement.  "Mr.  Belcher 
won't  get  his  money." 

"  Serve  him  right." 

"But  how  did  you  see  her?  You  didn't 
know  Uncle  Eobert." 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  303 

"  No,  but  Fred  had  met  him  at  your  house, 
and  I  was  miserable  about  you,  so  I  boldly 
called  on  her  and  told  her  freely  my  opinion 
of  Mr.  Belcher.  She  is  a  nice  woman,  and  had 
admired  you  when  you  went  to  see  your  uncle. 
I  am  quite  sure  that  she  will  be  a  friend  to 
you." 

"How  did  you  know  that  I  had  run 
away  ? ' ' 

"I  went  to  see  you,  and  Gibson  said  you 
had  gone  to  Bridgewater,  and  gave  me  the  ad- 
dress, so  I  wrote  to  you  there,  and  the  letter 
was  returned  to  your  house.  I  believe  that 
first  set  up  your  husband's  suspicions  on 
his  return.  He  was  in  a  great  rage,  and 
persisted  in  believing  that  a  woman  at  Bridge- 
water " 

"Oh,  poor  Susan " 

"Was  hiding  you.  He  felt  certain  that 
you  were  there,  for  you  had  been  traced  to 
Paddington.  A  month  or  two  later  there  was 
a  sensational  wreck,  and  among  the  things  cast 
up  was  the  box  with  your  name " 

20 


304  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"  Susan  thought  it  would  look  nice,  and 
had  it  painted  on  when  I  was  married." 

"So  Mr.  Belcher  concluded  that  you  were 
drowned,  and,"  she  added  with  the  occasional 
want  of  tact  which  had  always  distinguished 
her,  "I  think  he  has  quite  done  mourning  for 
you  by  this  time." 

"  It  sets  me  free,"  Katherine  said,  with  a 
long  sigh  of  satisfaction  ;  "  he  shall  never  know 
that  I  am  alive." 

"Well,  but— I  don't  think  that  would  be 
quite  fair,"  Mr.  Oswell  said.  "Suppose  some 
day  he  married  again — you  would  have  led 
him  into  bigamy.  It  is  rather  an  unpleasant 
fix,  I  know,"  he  went  on,  looking  at  her  with 
the  kind  eyes  that  she  remembered  at  Winder- 
mere, "  but  we  have  to  get  out  of  our  awkward 
fixes  in  life  with  the  best  grace  we  can,  and  we 
must  all  play  the  game  fairly.  You  and  Bee 
had  better  talk  it  over  presently.  And  in  spite 
of  all  things,"  he  added,  as  he  filled  up  her 
glass,  "we  will  drink  to  your  happiness,  Mrs. 
Belcher." 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  305 

"Happiness!  I  never  knew  what  happi- 
ness was — till  this  summer,"  and  the  colour 
rushed  to  her  face  again. 

Mrs.  Oswell  watching  her,  thought  sagely, 
"  Unless  I  am  very  much  mistaken,  my  dear, 
you  have  been  in  sight  of  the  red  lamp  since 
you  took  to  journeying  about  the  world  alone. 
A  woman  gravitates  towards  it  as  if  by  instinct 
when  her  home  relations  go  wrong."  Then  she 
asked  aloud,  "What  made  you  come  to  this 
place,  of  all  others  ? " 

"It  was  your  talk  at  Windermere,"  Kath- 
erine  answered,  looking  at  Mr.  Oswell.  "I 
never  dreamt  that  you  would  come  again : 
Mrs.  Oswell  said  she  didn't  like  the  little  Ital- 
ian places." 

"It's  very  odd,"  Mrs.  Oswell  said  affection- 
ately, "but  no  matter  how  much  I  dislike 
them  at  first,  I  always  come  round  to  thinking 
that  the  things  Fred  likes  and  does  are  the 
best  in  the  world.  I  positively  longed  to  come 
abroad  again,  and  made  him  bring  me  here, 
and  now  I  am  convinced  that  it  is  the  loveliest 


306  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

place  I  ever  saw.  We  are  going  away  in  the 
morning  to  Monte  Carlo,  but  we  mean  to  get 
home  for  Christmas — who  would  believe  that 
it  only  wants  a  fortnight  to  it,  in  this  lovely 
weather  ? " 

"And  you  won't  tell  Mr.  Belcher  that  you 
have  seen  me  i "  Katherine  entreated. 

"  Did  he  treat  you  very  badly  ? "  Mr.  Oswell 
asked. 

"He  made  me  miserable,"  she  answered 
sadly.  "The  morning  I  came  away,  and  the 
night  before,  he  struck  me— even  to  think  of 
him  frightens  me."  Mr.  Oswell  was  silent  a 
moment,  then  he  answered  slowly  ; 

"  You  will  have  to  let  him  know  that  you 
are  alive,  my  dear  young  lady  ;  it  may  be  hard 
lines,  but  if  there  is  a  law  one  has  to  abide 
by  it.  We  will  take  care  of  you,"  he  went  on 
gently,  "and  see  that  he  doesn't  ill-treat  you. 
Perhaps  he  would  consent  to  a  legal  separa- 
tion ;  then,  at  least,  you  would  not  go  about 
dreading  discovery,  only  it  seems  hard  that 
you  should  have  no  future  before  you  but  that 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  307 

of  a  woman  separated  from  her  husband — 
which  is  never  a  very  satisfactory  one." 

"  I  did  not  dream  what  I  was  doing  when  I 
married,"  Katherine  said  despairingly. 

"People  never  do,  my  dear,"  Mrs.  Oswell 
said;  ubut  still  there  yon  are.  Fred  wants 
to  smoke,  I  know — he  shall  go  and  walk  on 
the  beach  while  you  and  I  sit  in  the  orange- 
garden  and  have  a  quiet  talk ;  and  presently 
we  will  take  you  back  to  Laigueglia.  We 
start  by  the  early  train,  so  we  shall  not  see 
you  to-morrow.  I  can't  think,"  she  went  on 
as  they  walked  down  the  pathway,  uhow  I 
could  be  so  wicked  to  Fred  as  not  to  enjoy 
Italy  the  last  time  he  brought  me." 

"Are  you  as  happy  together  as  ever?" 
Katherine  asked. 

"Happier." 

"Were  you  very  much  in  love  when  you 
married  ? " 

"We  liked  each  other  better  than  anyone 
else,  and  wanted  to  be  together;  but  things 
didn't  always  go  smoothly  the  first  year.     I 


308  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

have  never  owned  that  to  anybody  else  in  the 
world,"  Mrs.  Oswell  added.  "It  was  difficult 
for  him,  perhaps,  to  settle  down  with  a  woman 
always  abont  him,  to  come  home  always  to 
the  same  face  and  the  same  sort  of  talk,  and 
to  give  up  some  of  his  bachelor  habits — though 
I  am  pretty  easy-going — and  of  course  I  am 
expensive,  so  that  he  has  had  to  work  harder, 
and  his  responsibilities  are  greater  because  of 
me." 

"Yes;  but  he  has  had  you  to  love  him 
and  to  think  of  him  and  welcome  him  home 
every  day,  and  to  sympathise  with  him,  and 
to  care  for  everything  that  concerned  him." 

"And  he  has  cared  for  everything  that  con- 
cerned me,"  Mrs.  Oswell  answered.  "The  ad- 
vantages of  his  position,  my  dear,  I  leave  for 
his  contemplation ;  it  is  my  business  to  con- 
sider the  disadvantages,  and  to  try  and  lighten 
them.  We  have  each  put  up  with  the  other's 
shortcomings  and  been  thoroughly  happy  to- 
gether. I  certainly  love  him  more  than  any- 
one else  in  the  world — more  and  more  as  time 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  309 

goes  on— as  he  does  me.  But  I  suspect  that 
if  we  had  not  displayed  some  tact  and  forbear- 
ance at  times,  especially  in  the  beginning,  we 
could  have  drifted  apart." 

"Mrs.  Oswell,"  asked  Katherine  slowly, 
"are  you  saying  this  for  me?  Do  you  think 
I  ought  to  go  back  to  Mr.  Belcher  1 " 

"I  think  you  ought  to  let  him  know  that 
you  are  alive ;  and,  if  you  are  to  fight,  why, 
fight  fairly." 

"He  made  me  marry  him,  and  he  delighted 
in  making  me  miserable." 

"Made  or  not  made,  you  did  marry  him. 
I  always  feel  so  sorry  for  the  disagreeable 
people  myself ;  they  have  generally  had  some 
knocks  in  life  of  which  we  know  nothing ;  but 
I  remember  saying  this  to  you  at  Windermere. 
If  things  had  always  gone  well  and  smoothly 
with  Mr.  Belcher,  he  would  probably  have 
been  kinder  and  more  gentle  with  you.  We 
pass  on  all  things  to  each  other." 

"That  is  what  I  once  thought  about  sin," 
Katherine  exclaimed. 


310  A  FLASH  OF  SUMiMER. 

"I  think,"  Mrs.  Oswell  went  on,  not  heed- 
ing her,  "that  we  should  always  try,  as  a 
modern  thinker  said  he  tried,  'to  accept  the 
facts  as  they  are,  however  bitter  or  severe,  to 
be  a  lover  and  a  student  but  never  a  law- 
giver.'" 

"It  is  so  hard,"  Katherine  whispered ; 
"and  Mr.  Belcher  need  never  even  see  me 
again." 

"I  know  it  is  hard,"  Mrs.  Oswell  an- 
swered; "but  try  and  consider  things  from 
his  point  of  view.  It  won't  be  pleasant  for 
him  to  have  a  discontented  wife  all  his  days, 
or  even  to  go  about  with  an  invisible  millstone 
round  his  neck,  while  you  become  that  most 
disagreeable  invention  of  modern  times,  a  lone 
woman  with  a  husband,  a  past,  and  a  griev- 
ance." 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ? "  she  asked 
slowly. 

"Write  to  your  uncle  and  ask  him  to  try 
and  improve  matters ;  and,  if  they  can't  be 
improved,  why,  of  course,  you  must  arrange 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  3H 

a  separation.  Have  courage,  dear ;  we  will 
stand  by  you,  and  I  think  your  uncle's  wife 
will  be  a  good  friend  to  you." 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Oswell !  "  Katherine  cried  pas- 
sionately, resting  her  head  down  on  the  back 
of  the  seat,  "I  cannot  do  it,  I  cannot.  It  isn't 
only  that  I  don't  care  for  him— I  hate  him  and 
shrink  from  him.  He  is  horrible— horrible ! 
even  to  think  of  him  makes  me  shudder. 
There  cannot  be  anything  in  the  world  so 
cruel  as  to  be  married  to  a  man  you  don't 
love  ;  and  it  isn't  only  that  I  don't  love  him," 
she  added  desperately,  "but  that  I  love  some- 
body else.  You  have  been  very  kind  to  me, 
and  so  I  will  tell  you  all.  I  love  somebody 
else  with  all  my  heart  and  soul,  and  think  of 
him  every  minute  of  my  life,  and  long  to  be 
with  him,  and  every  day  away  from  him— and 
all  my  days  must  be  spent  away  from  him — is 
an  ache  and  a  sorrow.  He  is  not  here,  and  I 
shall  never  see  him  again." 

"Thank  God!"  Mrs.  Oswell  said  to  her- 
self. 


312  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"Ina  little  more  than  a  month  he  will  have 
started  for  India,  and  I  shall  never,  never  see 
him  again,"  repeated  poor  Katherine  woefully. 
uBut  he  loved  me — he  loved  me  so,  and  he 
wanted  to  marry  me.  Oh!  Mrs.  Oswell,  I 
should  have  been  the  happiest  woman  in  the 
world." 

"But  didn't  he  know  that  you  were  mar- 
ried ?  "  Suddenly  Mrs.  Oswell  looked  down  at 
Katherine's  fingers:  "Why,  where  is  your 
wedding-ring  ? " 

"I  threw  it  into  the  sea,"  she  answered, 
with  a  satisfaction  she  could  not  help.  "No, 
he  didn't  know  ;  he  thought  I  was  a  girl." 

"But  does  he  know  now?"  Mrs.  Oswell 
was  a  little  shocked  and  bewildered,  easy-going 
though  she  was  by  nature. 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  he  knows  everything,  and  prob- 
ably despises  me  and  thinks  me  even  worse 
than  you  do,  for  he  and  his  mother — they  were 
together,  and  I  stayed  with  them  at  Greneroso 
— could  not  understand  why  I  refused  him, 
though  I  loved  him  and  made  no  secret  of  it, 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  313 

till  I  stood  up  one  night  and  told  them  the 
truth.  But  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  tell 
them  that  he  had  struck  me.  It  seemed  un- 
generous to  tell  that  of  a  man  they  had  never 
seen,  and  who  was  not  there  to  defend  himself. 
Besides,  my  pride  would  not  let  me  confess  it, 
it  was  so  humiliating,  and  when  I  had  finished, 
almost  before  they  had  had  time  to  recover,  I 
vanished  from  their  sight,  and  the  next  morn- 
ing I  got  up  very  early  and  left  a  note  for  Miss 
Bennett — she  was  to  be  carried  down  in  a  chair 
from  Generoso  and  did  not  want  me  till  she 
reached  Mendrisio.  I  started  on  foot  at  five 
in  the  morning.  It  was  chilly  and  raining," 
she  went  on  with  a  shudder,  "  though  after- 
wards I  saw  the  sun  shining  up  on  the  moun- 
tains. I  shall  never  forget  that  long  walk 
down  while  I  live — it  was  like  walking  down 
from  Heaven.  Miss  Bennett  followed  earlier 
than  I  expected,  and  we  got  away  by  the  morn- 
ing train,  perhaps  before  they  even  found  out 
that  we  had  started.  I  wrote  to  Mrs.  Alford 
from  here,  but  her  answer  showed  that  she  was 


314  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

angry  with  me,  and  Jim  didn't  send  me  a 
single  word.  All  that  is  over,  Mrs.  Oswell, 
but  I  love  him  with  all  my  heart,  and  could  be 
happy  with  him,  though  we  were  beggars  in 
the  street  and  he  beat  me  every  day.  That  is 
the  whole  difference.  How  could  I  go  back  to 
Mr.  Belcher,  and  be  a  wife  to  him  whom  I 
never  loved  at  all — never  did  anything  but  fear 
— while  in  my  heart  I  am  always  with  another 
man  and  belong  to  him  ? " 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Oswell,  with  a  long  sigh, 
"  it  is  a  terrible  corner,  and  I  don't  see  what  is 
to  be  done." 

"Leave  me  alone,"  Katherine  entreated, 
"  and  tell  no  one  that  you  have  seen  me.  You 
shall  hear  from  me  later — after  I  have  seen  poor 
Miss  Bennett  die,  perhaps.  Leave  me  alone 
— wait — wait  till  I  have  thought  it  all  out  for 
myself  and  write  to  you.  I  want  to  do  what  is 
right,  I  do  indeed,  but  some  things  are  not  to 
be  borne." 

"  There  is  no  merit  in  doing  right  when  it  is 
easy  ;  it  is  the  difficulty  that  makes  it  virtue." 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  315 

"And  even  then  it  is  only  duty.  Oh,  Mrs. 
Oswell,  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
morality  is  often  the  sorriest  thing  in  the 
world.  But  I  am  not  a  foolish  girl  any  longer. 
I  am  a  woman  who  has  suffered  and  thought, 
and  loved  and  striven,  and  I  want  to  do  my 
best — my  very,  very  best — but  I  must  fight  it 
out  alone ;  I  must  be  alone  to  work  out  my 
own  salvation  or  the  reverse.  Remember,"  she 
added  with  a  sob,  "  whichever  it  is — it  will  be 
mine,  mine  to  bear,  for  ever  and  ever."  She 
stopped,  but  her  face  was  on  her  arm,  which 
was  twisted  over  the  back  of  the  seat.  Mrs. 
Oswell  looked  at  her  puzzled ;  these  strong 
emotions  did  not  often  come  her  way,  and  she 
did  not  know  what  to  do  with  them. 

"  Don't  be  so  unhappy,"  she  said.  "  Things 
may  turn  out  better  than  we  imagine,  and,  of 
course,  though  it  may  seem  rather  hard  now, 
it  is  a  good  thing  that  the  other  man  is  going 
to  India,  for,  after  all,  we  women  are  very 
human,  my  dear.  I  wish  you  would  talk  it 
out  with  Fred — there  is  nothing  like  a  mascu- 


316  A  FLASH  OP  SUMMER. 

line  head  for  leavening  two  feminine  ones,  and 
he  liked  you  from  the  first.  I  feel  sure  it  would 
do  you  good  if  you  talked  it  over  with  him, 
dear." 

"  I  can't  talk  it  over  with  anyone  any  more," 
Katherine  answered  desperately.  "  Let  me  go 
back  to  Laigueglia.  I  am  glad  to  have  seen 
you  both.  You  have  been  very  good  to  me, 
and  I  know  you  will  be,  but  let  me  be  for  a 
little  while,  and  then  I  will  write  to  you ;  and 
till  then  promise  not  to  say  that  you  have  seen 
me." 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  will,  we  both  will." 

"Now  let  me  go." 

"  Are  you  in  a  pension  ?  " 

"No,  I  have  a  room  over  a  little  shop  in 
Laigueglia.  It  looks  on  the  sea.  I  want  to  go 
back  and  sit  in  the  dark  and  think  it  all  out 
by  myself." 

They  walked  back  with  her  almost  in 
silence,  along  the  bare  white  road,  beside  the 
sea.  The  village  was  dark  and  still,  though  it 
was  hardly  eight  o'clock,  for  light  is  dear  in 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  317 

Italy,  and  the  little  lamp  beside  which  the 
peasants  sit  on  the  long  winter  evenings  hardly 
do  more  than  betray  the  shadows  round  them. 
The  church  at  the  end  of  the  little  street 
looked  high  and  staring  white  ;  the  sands  and 
the  dark  sea  beyond  were  plain  enough,  but 
they  could  make  out  nothing  else.  They 
stopped  before  the  house  in  which  Katherine 
lodged ;  the  shop  was  closed,  there  was  no 
sign  or  sound  of  life  ;  but  she  pushed  open  the 
door  and  showed  them  that  it  had  been  left 
ajar  in  order  to  admit  her.  Mrs.  Oswell  looked 
curiously  in  at  the  narrow  passage,  but  there 
was  nothing  to  be  seen.  For  one  moment 
Katherine  thought  of  asking  her  to  enter  and 
see  the  room  that  was  now  her  home,  but  her 
courage  failed,  she  wanted  to  be  alone  so 
much.  She  was  aching  to  get  up  to  it — the 
little  whitewashed  room  with  the  coloured 
pictures  round  it,  and  the  fantastic  ceiling 
decorated  in  cheap  Italian  fashion— she  wanted 
to  throw  open  the  window  and  look  outwards 
towards  the  sea. 


318  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"Good-bye,"  and  she  held  out  her  hands. 
Mrs.  Oswell  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks. 

"  You  must  write  to  us,"  she  said. 

"After  the  New  Year,"  Katherine  answered, 
putting  her  weary  head  down  for  one  moment 
on  the  friendly  shoulder  ;  "  I  want  to  rest  and 
be  still  till  then." 

"It  will  be  the  best  thing  for  you,"  Mr.  Os- 
well said  understanding^,  "and  be  assured 
that  we  shall  say  nothing  till  you  give  us 
leave." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

She  groped  her  way  up-stairs  and  pushed 
open  the  door.  The  room  was  faint  with  the 
scent  of  flowers  she  had  gathered  in  the  morn- 
ing. She  struck  a  match  and  looked  round  as 
if  to  be  sure  that  the  place  was  the  same  one, 
and  she  the  same  woman  who  had  come  back 
to  it  after  the  experiences  of  the  evening.  A 
white  letter  on  the  table  caught  her  eye ;  it 
had  come  by  hand  and  not  by  post.  "  Jim  !  " 
she  cried.  "A  letter  from  Jim!"  and  she 
clutched  it  in  her  left  hand,  while  with  the 
right  she  tremblingly  held  the  match  to  a 
candle.     Then  she  tore  open  the  envelope. 

"  We  are  on  our  way  to  England,  and  I 
stopped  at  Alassio,  in  order  to  see  you.  Am 
going  on  by  the  next  train,  10.20  to-niglit. 

gj  (319) 


320  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

Miss  Bennett  said  you  had  left  Tier  to  return  to 
your  place,  but  there  seems  to  be  some  mistake. 
I  will  get  food,  and  return  at  a  little  before 
nine,  and  walk  as  far  as  the  church  and  back. 
If  you  get  this,  will  you  let  me  see  you,  even 
if  it  is  only  for  a  minute  f  " 

"And  I  might  have  missed  you,"  she 
gasped.  "  Oh,  my  dear  !  To  think  I  shall  see 
you  again !  "  She  read  his  letter  a  second 
time,  and  kissed  it ;  then  joyfully  extinguished 
the  light  and  went  down  the  dark  stairs,  out  of 
the  house  and  swiftly  along  the  street,  feeling 
like  a  swallow  flying  south.  Someone  was 
waiting  by  the  church.  She  stopped  and  hesi- 
tated, and  a  little  cry  escaped  her. 

"Oh,  Jim,  dear— oh,  Jim!  I  thought  I 
should  never,  never  see  you  again.  I  can't 
bear  it— I  can't  bear  it,  indeed.  The  happiness 
is  too  great " — and  she  burst  into  tears. 

"Why,  Kathy— my  dear  Kathy."  He  put 
his  arms  round  her,  and  looked  down  at  her 
face,  though  in  the  dim  light  he  could  hardly 
see  it.     "Is  it  as  bad  as  that,  my  dear?    I 


A  PLASH  OF  SUMMER.  321 

hoped  that  it  was  better  for  you,  and  that  it 
was  only  I  who  went  on  caring.  I  couldn't 
make  myself  go  away  for  ever  without  seeing 
you  once  more,  or  without  a  single  word " 

"Oh,  Jim!"  she  whispered  with  a  great 
sigh  of  thankfulness.  "I  thought  we  should 
never  meet  again.  Nothing  in  the  world  will 
matter  now." 

"My  poor  little  girl — look  here — let  us 
come  and  sit  on  the  beach.  I  saw  a  seat  there. 
The  population  of  Laigueglia  appears  to  be 
dead  and  buried." 

"Oh,  to  think  that  we  are  together  again, 
and  by  the  Mediterranean,"  she  said  in  a  voice 
trembling  with  joy.  "It  is  like  a  wonderful 
dream."  And  she  clung  to  his  arm  as  they 
went  towards  the  sea.  "Now,  tell  me,"  she 
went  on,  when  they  had  found  the  seat — "  tell 
me,  have  you  been  angry — what  did  you  think 
— why  didn't  you  send  me  a  single  word  in  the 
Mummy's  letter  ? " 

"Angry,  my  child?  No.  I  have  thought 
nothing  except  that  I  love  you,  and  for  that 


322  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

reason  had  better  not  write.  I  was  ill  when 
the  Mummy  wrote — that  confounded  fever  got 
hold  of  me  again — but  we  thought  that  it 
would  worry  you  if  you  knew.  I  say,  what  a 
wonderful  place  this  is  !  I  wish  we  could  stay 
here  for  ever,  you  and  I."  He  looked  up  for 
a  moment  as  a  breath  from  the  orange-trees 
was  wafted  to  him.  To  the  left  was  the  still 
village,  to  the  right  the  Corniche  road  going 
on  to  Andora ;  in  front  the  sands  and  the  sea  ; 
a  little  way  ahead,  at  each  end  of  the  bay, 
were  the  dark  rocks,  and  on  the  left  the  island 
of  Grallinara ;  in  the  background  were  the 
mountains,  and  over  everything  the  strange 
spell  of  night  and  silence.  "If  we  could  only 
have  a  century  of  it,"  he  said,  with  a  long  sigh. 

uAh,  if  we  could,"  she  echoed  eagerly. 
"But  tell  me  about  the  Mummy— where  is 
she  i " 

"At  present  she  is  waiting  for  me  at  Ven- 
timiglia.  We  came  from  Genoa  to-day,  get  to 
England  the  day  after  to-morrow.  I  told  her 
I  must  see  you  again  ;  the  train  goes  by  the 


,      A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  323 

station,  and  I  couldn't  pass  it.  She  was  very- 
angry,  and  thought  it  wrong;  perhaps  it  is, 
but  never  mind.  I  got  out  at  Alassio  as  we 
came  by,  and  go  on  by  the  next  train,  10.20, 
which  is  the  mail  through  to  Marseilles.  We 
should  have  had  to  wait  for  it  in  any  case,  and 
I  wait  here  with  you." 

u  And  she  wouldn't  come  and  see  me  too  ? " 
He  shook  his  head.  "And  she  won't  forgive 
me?" 

"My  dear,  she  wants  you  to  write  to  your 
uncle,  or.  else  to  go  to  England  as  soon  as  I  am 
gone,  to  her  house,  and  to  let  her  write  to  your 
husband  and  see  what  can  be  done." 

"And  do  you  wish  it  too ? " 

"I  can't  wish  it,"  he  said  gently,  "but 
something  ought  to  be  done." 

"He  thinks  that  I  am  dead,"  and  she  ex- 
plained briefly  the  mistake  about  her  box  and 
the  meeting  with  the  Oswells.  "  Why  should 
he  ever  know  that  I  am  alive  ?  Jim,  I  have 
been  sorry  that  I  told  you,"  she  whispered. 
"You  might  have  married  me  and  taken  me 


324  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

to  India  and  nobody  would  have  known.  He 
would  have  been  thankful  that  I  was  dead,  and 
we  should  have  been  happy  all  our  lives.  It 
would  have  done  no  one  any  harm.  I  couldn't 
have  done  it  because  I  couldn't  have  borne  to 
deceive  you.     But  would  it  have  been  wrong  ? " 

"  It  doesn't  do  to  fly  in  the  face  of  the  law  ; 
it  has  a  way  of  avenging  itself." 

"Yes,  I  know — Mr.  Oswell  said  that  too; 
but  would  it  have  been  wrong  in  itself? 
Would  it  be  wrong  if  you  took  me  away  now 
and  he  never  knew  that  I  was  alive,  and  we 
were  faithful  to  each  other  all  our  lives  % " 

uIt  won't  do,  dear,"  and  he  shook  his 
head.  "We  have  got  to  do  the  best  we 
can  in  the  world  and  to  put  the  best  we  know 
into  it." 

"But  it  wouldn't  do  anyone  any  harm," 
she  pleaded. 

"That  is  a  thing  we  can  never  insure. 
Look  here,  Kathy,"  he  said,  resting  his  two 
hands  across  her  shoulder  and  trying  to  see 
her  face  through  the  darkness.     "Suppose  we 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  325 

did  as  you  say,  and  called  each  other  man  and 
wife  in  India." 

"  I  always  feel  as  if  I  were  married  to  you," 
she  whispered. 

"Do  you,  my  sweet?    Tell  me  why." 

"Because  we  loved  each  other  and  told 
each  other  so,  up  at  Generoso.  And  you 
kissed  me,"  she  whispered,  lower  still,  but  with 
a  courage  the  darkness  gave  her,  "and  held 
me  in  your  arms,  and  I  knew  that  you  cared 
for  me,  and  I  felt  my  heart  so  full  of  love  for 
you.  Nothing  can  undo  it,  nothing  as  long  as 
I  live,  or  try  as  much  as  I  will — it  is  like  a 
marriage  tie." 

"And  it  shall  be  like  one  to  me,"  he  said 
tenderly  ;  "  but  we  are  going  to  do  the  right 
thing  for  all  that,  and  not  the  wrong  one. 
Suppose,  as  I  say,  my  darling,  that  we  did  live 
as  man  and  wife  in  India,  and  he  found  it  out. 
There  would  be  a  divorce." 

"But  that  would  set  me  free." 

"  At  a  terrible  price.  We  might  have  chil- 
dren some  day,  you  and  I ;  we  should  wish  for 


326  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

them  if  we  were  natural  people.  Would  you 
like  them  to  grow  up  and  find  out  our  dis- 
grace ?  It  is  no  good,  my  dear,  nothing  will 
make  a  wrong  thing  right,  and  no  amount  of 
repenting  will  ever  undo  it.  We  should  have 
to  turn  the  world  backwards  to  blot  it  out, 
even  though  we  were  forgiven  a  dozen  times 
over,  for  a  deed  once  done  is  done  to  all  eter- 
nity, that  is  what  we  so  seldom  realise.  I 
love  you  with  all  my  heart,  God  knows  ;  but 
I  am  not  going  to  make  the  woman  I  love 
afraid  to  look  other  people  in  the  face.  The 
fact  that  we  love  each  other  ought  to  make 
us  strong  enough  to  do  the  right  thing,  or  the 
love  is  rather  poor  stuff.  The  hardness  of  it 
won't  be  all  yours  ;  it  will  be  worse  for  me  in 
India,  knowing  that  you  are  with  him,  per- 
haps, and  with  an  indefinite  dread  that  will 
make  me  long  to  blow  his  brains  out." 

uOh,  Jim,  I  know  that  you  are  right," 
and  resting  her  face  down  on  his  hands  she 
kissed  them.  "Yes,  let  me,"  she  said,  as  he 
tried  to  draw  them  away.     "Let  me,  I  want 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  327 

to  kiss  your  hands,  I  am  not  good  enough  for 
you  to  kiss  my  face — for  I  have  been  trying  to 
make  you  do  wrong." 

"No,  she  hasn't,"  he  said  tenderly,  "she 
is  only  a  little  weak  woman — my  little  Eve, 
and  I  love  her,  my  dear,  my  sweet,  I  love  her. 
And  since  she  can't  be  my  wife,  I  will  promise 
her  never  to  marry  anyone  else  as  long  as  I 
live." 

"But  I  should  like  you  to  marry  and  be 
happy,  Jim.  When  you  say  that  you  love 
me  it  makes  me  feel  as  if  I  could  do  anything 
in  the  wide  world,"  and  she  took  his  hands 
and  put  them  together,  and  rested  her  fore- 
head down  upon  them.  "Anything  in  the 
wide  world,"  she  repeated,  after  a  long  min- 
ute's silence,  "no  matter  how  difficult  it  is. 
It  gives  me  strength,  and  I  will  prove  it — I 
will,  indeed.  Give  me  a  little  time  just  to 
gather  myself  together,  and  you  shall  see. 
Don't  ask  me— I  can't  tell  you,  but  it  shall  be 
done— not  yet,  but  in  a  little  time.  When  do 
you  start  for  India  % " 


328  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER 

"On  the  26th  of  January." 

"Till  then,"  she  said  with  a  gasp.  "Till 
that  day  let  yonr  poor  Eve  live  in  her  Eden, 
to  think  of  you  and  love  you,  and  grow  strong 
to  do  that  which  is  most  difficult.  Hark !  the 
clocks  are  striking.  Those  are  the  Alassio 
clocks ;  we  hear  them  all  this  way  when  the 
wind  is  in  the  right  quarter.  What  time  does 
your  train  go,  Jim  ?  Ten-twenty  ?  That  was 
half -past  nine,"  she  went  on  excitedly.  "  You 
must  go,  dearest,  you  must  go,  and  perhaps 
it  is  better.  Let  me  walk  back  with  you  to 
Alassio  ;  the  late  train  doesn't  stop  here.  Let 
us  have  this  one  last  walk  together." 

"  No.  You  would  have  to  come  back  alone 
and  in  the  dark.  I  shall  scurry  along  quickly 
enough  by  myself.  We  will  have  five  minutes 
more  together  here,  my  sweet,  and  then  good- 
bye." 

"  Shall  you  write  to  me  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Better  not.  We  shall  hear  of  each  other 
through  the  Mummy.  All  things  have  to  be 
paid  for,  Kathy.     Is  even  the  sorrow  of  part- 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  329 

ing  too  big  a  price  for  having  met  and  loved 
each  other  ? " 

"No,"  she  whispered,  "and  I  will  make 
it  another-thank  offering,  Jim,  dear,  be  sure 
of  that,  though  to-night  I  can't  tell  you  how 
or  when  it  will  be." 

"  It  is  time  to  go,"  he  said  reluctantly,  and 
turned  her  face  up  to  his  and  looked  at  it  as 
though  he  never  expected  to  see  it  again  in 
this  world.  Then  they  walked  back  slowly 
to  the  village. 

"Jim,"  she  said,  "you  will  go  past  Lai- 
gueglia  in  the  train.  I  will  listen  for  it  by 
the  open  window,  and  shall  see  it  as  it  goes 
by  between  me  and  the  sea." 

"I  sha'n't  know  which  is  your  win- 
dow." 

"Yes,  you  shall,"  she  exclaimed.  "I  will 
light  a  candle  and  hold  it  up,  and  you  will  see 
it  in  the  darkness  and  know  when  you  are 
passing  me." 

"That  is  splendid,  my  darling.  By  Jove! 
I  have  a  box  of  lights  in  my  pocket ;  I  will 


330  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

light  one  as  an  answer.  You  will  see  it  plain- 
ly.    What !  is  this  the  place  already  % " 

"Yes,  Jim,  already,"  she  answered  woe- 
fully. 

A  quarter  past  ten.  She  was  standing  by 
the  open  window  counting  the  minutes :  five 
more  and  he  would  start  from  Alassio.  "  I  will 
do  it,"  she  was  saying  to  herself.  "Oh,  my 
dear,  my  dear,  what  does  the  rest  matter  now 
that  I  have  had  that  one  hour  with  you,  have 
seen  your  face  and  heard  your  voice  and  felt 
your  kisses  %  I  could  walk  to  the  stake  and  be 
burnt  and  not  feel  it  while  this  joy  is  so  strong 
upon  me.  It  helps  me  to  know  how  they  bore 
things  in  the  old  days  for  love  of  Christ.  Oh, 
Jim,  my  dear,  my  dear!  There  is  nothing  I 
would  not  do  for  love  of  you.  Hark !  it  is 
coming — the  train  has  started — he  will  be  here 
directly  !  "  With  feverish  haste  she  lighted 
the  candle  and  stood  with  it  by  the  open  win- 
dow looking  out  into  the  darkness.  Nearer 
and  nearer  it  rumbled — nearer— quicker — it 
was  passing.     She  waved  the  flickering  can- 


A   FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  331 

die,  and  suddenly  there  was  a  little  flash  from 
one  of  the  windows  of  the  dark  train.  A  cry 
escaped  her:  "Oh,  my  darling!"  she  ex- 
claimed. "It  is  all  over  for  ever  and  ever; 
but  I  will  do  even  that  for  love  of  you  !  " 


CHAPTER   XX. 

The  weeks  dragged  by.  Every  day  lagged, 
every  hour  drew  itself  out  to  the  uttermost, 
and  yet  each  one  as  it  passed  left  dread  and 
fright  wrapped  closer  and  closer  round  Kath- 
erine's  heart.  She  felt  as  if  she  were  living  her 
last  days  of  life  ;  in  three  weeks  the  end  would 
come,  and  she  knew  perfectly  what  that  end 
would  be.  Sometimes  the  old  longing  beset  her 
to  journey  on  and  see  the  rest  of  the  world. 
"  My  dear  beautiful  world,"  she  said  to  herself 
as  she  walked  up  the  little  red  road  towards 
the  spot  where  King  Otho's  daughter  had  once 
lived  in  a  cottage  and  found  happiness,  "  I 
wish  I  could  go  on — could  tramp  on  through 
you  for  ever,  seeing  all  your  seas,  looking  up 
at  your  mountains,  and  staying  to  rest  a  little 

(332) 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  333 

among  the  people  who  belong  to  you.  I  am 
strong  and  well  and  young,  and  don't  want  to 
die ;  but  when  I  do  I  am  glad  to  think  that  I 
shall  be  put  into  the  earth  and  grow  into  it  till 
I  become  just  a  little  part  of  the  world  itself. 
Perhaps  some  day  I  shall  come  out  in  the  sun- 
shine again,  and  feel  it  falling  soft  and  warm 
upon  me ;  or  shall  have  seed  planted  in  me 
and  flowers  growing  up,  or  wind  myself  round 
the  root  of  a  great  tree  while  my  soul  climbs 
into  a  branch  and  looks  down  on  the  little 
figures  walking  to  and  fro,  till  it  is  time  for 
them,  too,  to  pay  themselves  as  tribute  into 
the  earth  on  which  they  have  lived." 

The  New  Year  came.  Miss  Bennett  was 
dying,  painlessly,  but  surely.  Her  sister  had 
arrived,  a  gaunt,  cheerful  woman,  evidently 
quite  reconciled  to  her  sister's  going,  and  hop- 
ing not  to  be  detained  too  long  away  from  her 
husband  and  children. 

"  Poor  Sarah  was  a  woman  who  always 
grumbled,"  she  explained  to  Katherine — it  was 
the  last  afternoon  of  Miss  Bennett's  life.    "  She 


334  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

was  never  satisfied  with  things,  and  I  don't 
wonder ;  she  found  them  pretty  hard,  poor 
dear.  Father  wasn't  fond  of  her  as  a  child, 
and  after  mother  died  he  hurried  her  away 
from  home  to  earn  her  living.  She  taught 
French  and  music  in  schools  for  years,  and 
saved  a  little  money,  and  went  to  stay  with 
some  rich  cousins  in  Staffordshire ;  and  that 
was  the  worst  thing  that  ever  happened  to  her, 
for  she  fell  in  love  with  a  man  who  has  been 
the  ruin  of  her  life,  though  she  hasn't  seen  him 
for  years  and  years  now." 

"  How  was  he  the  ruin  of  her  life  ?  "  Kath- 
erine  asked.  She  and  Mrs.  Wells  were  walk- 
ing up  and  down  the  garden  of  the  pension, 
while  Miss  Crockett  watched  a  few  minutes  be- 
side the  invalid. 

"  He  thought  she  was  well  off,  so  he  made 
love  to  her,  and  she  liked  him.  Afterwards, 
when  he  found  she  had  no  money,  he  jeered  at 
the  idea  of  marriage,  and  deserted  her.  She 
has  never  ceased  thinking  of  him,  or  cared  for 
anyone  else,  though  she  knows  perfectly  what 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  335 

he  is.  It  is  knowing  what  he  is  that  has  made 
her  so  hard  and  dissatisfied." 

"  But  do  you  think  she  likes  him  still  ? " 

"  I  feel  certain  that  she  thinks  of  him  day 
and  night,  though  she  hasn't  seen  him  for  fif- 
teen years.  He's  a  bad  man,  and  cares  for 
nothing  but  money  and  hurting  people  who 
come  in  his  way.  Some  men  like  to  see  others 
suffer,  and  he  does  ;  for  I  know  many  things 
about  him  besides  his  conduct  to  Sarah.  I 
saw  him  just  before  I  left  London,  and  told 
him  she  was  dying.  He  said  she  had  written 
and  asked  him  to  come  out  and  say  good-bye 
to  her." 

"And  he  refused?" 

"He  was  too  busy,  he  said,  and  a  cruel, 
triumphant  look  came  over  his  face,  as  if  he 
rejoiced  that  she  was  dying  and  alone.  I  don't 
wonder  his  wife  ran  away  from  him,  though  he 
only  married  her  a  year  or  two  ago — a  girl, 
too,  as  if  any  girl  would  live  with  Edward 
Belcher !  " 

"Edward  Belcher!      Is  that  his    name?" 

22 


336  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

Katherine  exclaimed.  Mrs.  Wells  was  look- 
ing at  the  orange- trees,  and  did  not  see  her 
face. 

"Yes,  that  is  his  name,"  she  answered. 
"  And  Sarah  has  spent  her  whole  life  loving  a 
man  who  doesn't  even  exist,  or,  rather,  wasted 
it,  hoping  he  would  be  different  and  begin  to 
exist  as  she  imagined  him,  and  that  he,  who 
has  never  cared  for  anything  or  anyone  but 
himself,  would  then  begin  to  care  for  her. 
Well,  I  have  a  good  husband  myself,  and  I 
don't  believe  in  men  being  bad,  unless  it  is  one 
now  and  then,  but  I  don't  believe  that  men 
ever  suffer  what  women  do  on  their  account ; 
it  is  a  good  thing  if  some  of  us  can  plague  them 
a  bit.  Let's  go  in.  Miss  Crockett  said  she 
would  put  up  a  white  handkerchief  at  the  win- 
dow when  Sarah  woke,  and  I  saw  her  pin  it  to 
the  curtain." 

Miss  Bennett  was  awake  and  sensible.  Her 
eyes  wandered  restlessly  round  the.  room.  "I 
don't  want  you,  Grace,"  she  said  to  her  sister  ; 
"I  want  to  talk  to  Katherine  about  her  own 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  337 

concerns,  while  you  go  and  get  her  some  tea. 
I  have  been  thinking  about  that  money,"  she 
said  when  they  were  alone — uthe  hundred 
pounds  that  came  to  Generoso.  Did  you  send 
it  to  me  %    You  wanted  to  give  me  some  money 

a  few  days  before.     I  thought,  perhaps " 

She  closed  her  eyes  for  a  moment,  unable  to  go 
on.  "Did  you?"  she  asked,  clutching  at  the 
frill  of  the  square  white  pillow  under  her 
head. 

"No,  indeed,  I  didn't,"  Katherine  an- 
swered ;  and  wondered  whether  she  might  tell 
her  the  truth.  But  while  she  hesitated,  a 
smile  that  was  almost  happy  broke  over  Miss 
Bennett's  face. 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  she  said,  "and  Grace 
knows  nothing  about  it  either.  I  think,"  and 
she  looked  up  with  a  strange  expression  in  her 
eyes,  "that  it  was  sent  me  by  someone  I  have 
known  a  long,  long  time,  and  used  to  like  very 
much.  I  am  glad  he  sent  it,"  she  whispered  ; 
"it  shows  that  he  thought  of  me,  and  wanted 
me  to  be  comfortable  at  the  last.     I  wish  you 


338  A  FLASH  OP  SUMMER. 

knew  him,  Katherine ;  perhaps  you  will  one 
day.  I  heard  only  lately  that  he  married 
someone  who  was  called  Kerr.  Perhaps  it  was 
a  relation — you  will  know  him,"  she  went  on 
in  a  half-rambling  manner,  "then  you  can  give 
him  the  message.  Grace  never  liked  him,  and 
perhaps  she  wouldn't  give  it." 

"  Give  what  message  ?  "  Katherine  asked,  in 
a  low  voice. 

"  To  Edward.  I  should  like  him  to  know 
that  nothing  made  any  difference — perhaps  he 
didn't  mean  to  be  unkind.  He  had  to  be  pru- 
dent— a  man  has  to  be  prudent,  you  know. 
Perhaps  things  were  hard  upon  him  when  he 
was  a  boy— it  always  tells  oh  people  when  they 
grow  up." 

"  What  shall  I  say  to  him  V 

"That  I  sent  him  my  love.  I  know  you 
will  do  it  some  day,  for  you  are  a  good  girl, 
and  I  hope  you  will  marry  young  Alford. 
Don't  let  anything  stand  in  the  way — it  is  a  pity 
to  let  anything  stand  in  the  way— money  or 
anything."    She  shut  her  eyes  for  a  moment, 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  339 

and  then  the  smile  broke  over  her  face  again, 
"lam  glad  that  I  know,"  she  said,  in  a  happy 
satisfied  voice,  "  that  he  sent  me  his  money — 
he  has  given  me  everything  I  have  had  for  the 
last  two  months— he  must  have  felt  that  I  be- 
longed to  him." 

That  night  Miss  Bennett  died. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Another  fortnight,  nearly  three  weeks,  and 
then  Katherine  sat  in  her  little  room  at  Lai- 
gueglia  writing  letters.  She  felt  as  if  she 
would  never  get  through  them,  for  she  stopped 
so  many  times  to  gather  courage :  every  word 
seemed  to  be  torn  out  of  her  heart  and  life. 
The  first  one  was  to  Mrs.  Alford. 

"Jim  told  me  that  you  were  very  an- 
gry," it  ran,  "and  I  could  tell  that  it  was  so 
from  the  letter  you  sent  me  before  he  came. 
But  you  said  in  that  letter,  and  he  repeated  it, 
that  you  wished  me  to  go  to  you  if  I  did  what 
you  and  he  considered  to  be  right.  And  this  I 
am  going  to  do,  dear  Mummy.  I  know  Jim 
starts  on  the  twenty-sixth,  a  week  to-morrow, 

(340; 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  341 

and  on  that  day  I  shall  leave  Laigueglia  and 
journey  slowly  towards  England, — slowly,  for 
my  feet  will  have  to  be  dragged  one  after  the 
other  even  though  they  are  taking  me  to  you 
at  Chilworth.  I  will  write  to  my  uncle  by 
this  post,  as  you  wished,  telling  him  every- 
thing that  I  have  done,  and  giving  him  your 
address,  and  saying  that  he  will  find  me  there. 
I  will  write  to  Mr.  Belcher  too,  telling  him 
that  I  am  coming,  and  that  Uncle  Robert  will 
know  my  whereabouts.  Now,  will  you  forgive 
me  everything,  dearest  Mummy  ?  Though  I 
fear  I  do  not  do  it  so  much  for  love  of  what  is 
right,  as  for  love  of  Jim  and  you.  But  just  as 
I  have  learnt  to  see  that  of  one  sin  another  is 
born,  so  perhaps  of  one  good  deed,  and  that  your 
kindness  to  me,  and  of  one  thing  that  is  divine 
—for  surely  love  that  is  strong  and  pure  is  di- 
vine— good  may  be  born  !  However  terrible  it  is 
to  do,  I  know  that  what  I  am  doing  is  right— 
though  it  seems  to  me  as  if  the  wrong  would 
have  been  better,  since  it  would  have  made  for 
happiness.     But  this,  again,  is  only  one  of  the 


34:2  A  FLASH   OP  SUMMER. 

tangles  we  cannot  understand,  and  I  know  that 
we  should  steer  towards  the  light,  though  we 
lose  everything  we  care  for  most  on  the  way. 
I  know,  too,  that  I  would  give  thankfully 
and  joyfully  any  hopes  or  happiness  that 
might  be  mine,  or  even  my  life  itself,  for  love 
of  Jim  and  you,  and  I  give  you  this  deed  in 
token  of  it. 

"  I  shall  be  with  you  on  Monday  night, 
dear  Mummy,  and  will  tell  Uncle  Robert  so. 
Perhaps  he  will  not  come  to  me  till  Tuesday, 
and  then  I  shall  have  that  little  time  alone 
with  you,  and  you  will  make  me  strong  to 
carry  out  all  this  ;  and  I  will  love  you  and  try 
to  comfort  you  a  little  because  Jim  is  with  you 
no  longer.  Let  me  send  my  love  to  him — for 
love  of  him  has  only  led  me  to  do  what  is 
right,  dear  Mummy,  and  I  do  not  think  that 
Heaven  would  grudge  it  to  me.  Tell  him  that 
I  shall  start  on  my  journey  towards  you  on 
that  same  day — Friday,  the  26th — that  he  will 
start  on  his  away  from  you. 

"  Your  loving  Katherine." 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  343 

Then  there  came  the  long  explanatory  let- 
ter to  her  Uncle  Robert,  and  one  to  Mrs.  Os- 
we]l  telling  her  all  that  she  had  done  and  beg- 
ging that  she  might  find  a  line  awaiting  her 
when  she  arrived  at  Chilworth.  And  then  she 
wrote  a  little  note  to  Susan,  apologising  for  all 
the  trouble  she  had  caused  her,  and  hop- 
ing that  some  day  they  might  meet  again. 
Last  of  all  there  was  the  letter  to  her  hus- 
band. It  was  more  difficult  than  any  other  to 
write : 

".....  You  never  cared  for  me,"  she  said, 
"but  I  do  not  wonder,  for  I  was  so  much 
younger  than  you,  and  knew  so  little ;  I  al- 
ways felt  in  your  way — and  I  was.  But  I  was 
not  fair  to  you,  and  did  wrong  when  I  took  my 
fate  altogether  into  my  own  hands,  and  I  beg 
you  to  forgive  me  and  to  let  me  live  quietly 
away  from  you,  so  that  you  do  not  remember 
anything  about  me  to  vex  you.  It  is  no  use 
pretending  that  I  care  for  you  or  could  be 
happy  with  you,  for  that  would  be  untrue ; 
but  I  will  leave  everything  in  Uncle  Robert's 


344  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

hands  ;  he  will  tell  you  where  I  am  and  decide 
what  is  best  to  be  done." 

She  went  out  while  her  strength  lasted  and 
posted  her  letters,  feeling  as  if  they  held  her 
death-sentence,  and  she  were  going  to  follow 
them  to  the  place  of  execution.  She  walked 
back  along  the  sands  and  picked  up  a  Venus's 
slipper,  and  having  looked  at  it  wonderingly 
threw  it  into  the  sea.  She  remembered  the 
orange  garden  behind  the  hotel,  and  went  back 
towards  it,  and  up  a  mountain  pathway  for 
half  a  mile  and  looked  round  at  the  sea  and 
the  bay  and  the  island,  and  the  mountain 
chain  right  and  left  of  her :  soon  she  would 
have  seen  it  all  for  the  last  time.  She  gath- 
ered some  Banxia  roses,  and  went  up  higher. 
There  was  a  little  ruined  chapel  dedicated  to 
the  Virgin.  She  sat  down  and  leant  her  head 
against  its  wall.  "  She  was  a  woman  and  suf- 
fered, and  it  comforts  me  to  sit  here,"  she  said 
to  herself.  "If  only  I  could  understand  things 
better!  Why  should  so  many  women  have 
prayed  and  wept  out  their  hearts  to  the  Yir- 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  345 

gin  if  she  cannot  hear  or  help  them  ;  and  if 
she  can,  why  is  the  knowledge  of  it  denied  to 
so  many  others  ?  It  seems  sometimes  as  if  we 
were  all  hopelessly  blind  and  deaf,  or  as  if 
there  were  some  strange  senses  in  us  tied  down 
and  unable  to  explain  the  things  that  are  or  are 
not.  It  isn't  to  be  wondered  at  if  most  of  us 
go  astray.  If  I  wanted  to  make  myself  more 
miserable  still,  it  would  be  easy  enough  to  sit 
and  think  that  love  and  pain  and  death  and 
the  wide  world's  beauty  are  the  only  things 
that  really  exist." 

Friday  morning  —  the  twenty  -  sixth  — 
dawned. 

She  was  going  to  leave  Laigueglia  by  the 
ten  o'clock  train.  Jim  would  not  start  from 
Chil worth  till  the  afternoon,  for  she  remem- 
bered hearing  him  say  that  the  Indian  mail 
started  late.  She  had  never  travelled  very  far 
alone  by  land  before,  but  what  did  it  matter  ? 
Suppose  she  were  killed,  it  would  not  be  worse 
than  going  back  to  Mr.  Belcher.  She  had  mis- 
calculated the  time  the  journey  would  take 


346  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

when  she  wrote  her  letters.  She  might  have 
stayed  at  Laigueglia  till  Saturday  night  or 
Sunday  morning,  and  yet  been  in  time  to  get 
to  Mrs.  Alford's  by  Monday  night ;  but  having 
said  that  she  would  start  on  Friday,  she  could 
not  bring  herself  to  depart  from  a  word  that 
she  had  written.  So  she  stood  packed  and 
ready  at  the  little  station.  The  Italian  woman 
with  whom  she  had  lodged  came  to  see  her 
off,  and  kissed  her,  and  gave  her  a  bough 
of  oranges  as  a  parting  gift,  and  Katherine 
thought  her  heart  would  break  when  she  heard 
her  last  "  Addio,  Signora !  "  as  the  train  moved 
off.  She  saw  her  own  little  window  from  the 
train — the  window  to  which  she  had  held  up 
the  light  as  Jim  went  by  with  an  answering 
flash.  But  she  tried  to  keep  down  all  thoughts 
of  him  and  of  that  night  by  the  sea.  It  must 
be  forgotten ;  everything  must  be  forgotten, 
except  that  for  his  sake — his  sake,  and  not  the 
Mummy's,  as  her  heart  knew  well — she  was 
going  to  do  this  saddest,  hardest  thing  on 
earth. 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  347 

The  train  went  on  in  the  sunshine  between 
the  mountains,  and  the  landscape  yellow  with 
oranges  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  blue  sea  on 
the  other.  She  looked  from  side  to  side  won- 
deringly,  and  it  seemed  as  if  every  moment  the 
earth  grew  more  beautiful,  but  she  was  going 
away  from  it.  Past  all  the  little  villages  with 
the  happy  peasants  in  them,  and  the  shrines 
and  the  churches  and  the  little  town  with  the 
prison  in  the  shape  of  a  cross  ;  past  San  Eemo, 
with  its  big  hotels  and  air  of  fashion  ;  past 
Bordighera  with  its  palm-trees,  and  on  to 
Ventimiglia  ;  then,  like  a  dream-woman,  she 
got  out  to  change  over  to  the  French  side, 
wondering  if  it  could  be  really  true  that  she 
was  awake,  taking  this  journey  alone,  and  in 
order  to  give  herself  up  to  Mr.  Belcher. 

All  manner  of  wild  ideas  came  into  her 
head  as  she  scurried  along.  She  thought  of 
Eltham  Palace  and  the  moat,  and  the  crane 
standing  on  one  leg.  Perhaps  it  remembered 
Anne  Boleyn,  and  knew  how  she  felt  on  her 
way  to  Tower  Hill.      She  thought  of  Alice 


348  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

Alford's  joke  about  Anne  dancing  with  her 
head  in  her  pocket  in  the  palace  of  Eltham. 
There  was  a  gallery  at  one  end  in  which  the 
musicians  had  sat,  never  dreaming  that  per- 
haps some  day  their  ghosts  would  come  back 
and  sit  there  playing  music  that  had  no  sound 
in  it,  to  an  empty  hall  turned  into  a  barn. 
Katherine  felt  as  if  she  were  going  through  life 
with  her  head  in  her  pocket.  Who  knows  j 
She  might  dance  or  laugh— what  did  it  matter  ? 
All  the  time  she  would  be  a  dead  woman. 
And  then  she  laughed  out  bitterly,  and  broke 
down  and  cried,  and  told  herself  for  the  thou- 
sandth time  that  nothing  would  matter  more, 
her  life  had  come  to  an  end,  and  she  was  going 
back  to  Mr.  Belcher  for  an  eternity.  She 
slept  at  Marseilles,  a  long  dreamless  sleep,  a 
stranger  in  a  strange  land  and  a  big  hotel,  and 
wondered  in  the  morning  what  to  do  next,  for 
she  had  too  much  time  on  her  hands.  It 
would  have  been  far  better  to  rush  the  journey 
through.  Finally,  she  decided  to  stay  all  day 
at  Marseilles ;   but  she  had  no  heart  to  walk 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  349 

about.  She  was  a  prisoner  going  back  to  gaol, 
and  bad  no  business  to  behave  like  a  free 
woman. 

So  Saturday  passed.  Jim  was  in  the  train  ; 
she  was  not  sure  of  his  route,  but  she  imagined 
that  he  must  be  somewhere  in  the  middle  of 
France.  It  was  something  to  be  in  the  same 
land  with  him.  "  Good-bye,"  she  said  to  her- 
self;  "I  am  doing  this  for  you,  and  you  know 
it  by  this  time.  Good-bye."  She  left  Mar- 
seilles that  night,  and  travelled  through  to 
Paris,  and  stayed  another  long  day  in  an  hotel 
seeing  nothing  of  the  city  to  which  she  had 
come.  What  a  strange  thing  it  was  to  be  there 
and  not  to  move  a  step  outward !  But  she  was 
a  prisoner,  she  told  herself  again,  and  had  no 
more  right  than  she  had  heart  to  go  a-pleas- 
uring.  She  meant  to  start  at  night  again— it 
seemed  easier  to  travel  in  the  dark,  for  then 
she  could  not  see  the  distance  lessening  be- 
tween her  and  her  doom.  But  on  the  way  to 
Calais  she  shook  off  her  depression,  and  felt 
her  courage  come  back.    After  all,  Mr.  Belcher 


350  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

was  certain  to  consent  to  a  separation.  Had 
he  not  told  her  that  he  liked  somebody  else 
better  \  Oh,  how  terrible  it  was  to  remember 
that,  and  to  think  of  poor  Miss  Bennett  dying 
happily  because  she  imagined  that  Jim's 
money  had  come  from  the  man  who  had 
ruined  her  life !  It  was  this  last  knowledge 
that  added  a  touch  of  horror  to  her  thoughts 
of  Mr.  Belcher.  But  Miss  Bennett  was  at  rest, 
poor  soul ;  and  as  for  her— for  Katherine — she 
felt  that  Uncle  Robert  would  manage  things, 
and  would  not  be  so  cruel  as  to  let  her  go  back 
to  jeers  and  blows ;  and  now  that  there  was 
probably  no  prospect  of  any  money  Mr.  Bel- 
cher would  not  desire  it. 

She  reached  Charing  Cross  in  the  early 
morning,  and  still  her  courage  held  by  her. 
After  all,  she  was  going  to  the  Mummy  that 
day,  to  see  Jim's  home,  to  hear  how  he  had  set 
forth,  and  whether  he  had  left  a  message  for 
her ;  perhaps  he  had  written  her  just  a  word 
to  wish  her  a  last  good-bye.  But  there  was 
another  long  day  to  get  through  first.      She 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  351 

felt  shy  of  going  to  Chilworth  before  the  even- 
ing ;  the  Mummy  would  not  expect  her,  and 
might  have  other  visitors.  Then  suddenly  the 
idea  struck  her  that  she  would  go  to  Eltham  ; 
the  crane  was  gone  long  years  ago  ;  but  there 
was  the  palace  and  the  moat,  and  the  way 
through  the  church  and  across  the  corn-field  to 
the  woods  that  led  to  Shooter's  Hill. 

So  she  walked  through  the  quaint  old  place 
that  day  and  stood  before  the  palace,  and  saw 
the  moat,  and  the  little  bridge  and  the  gnarled 
trees,  that  looked  as  if  centuries  had  passed 
since  they  were  saplings.  Then  she  went  on  to 
the  church ;  and  suddenly  the  bells  rang  out 
a  peal.  Two  people  were  being  married  ;  she 
wondered  if  they  loved  each  other,  and 
whether  they  thought  it  all  a  joke,  and  mar- 
riage a  pastime  that  did  not  need  much  think- 
ing about  before  they  entered  upon  it,  and, 
above  all,  if  they  were  taking  each  other  of 
their  own  free  will  or  because  they  had  been 
talked  and  persuaded  into  it.  She  went  across 
the  corn-fields,  brown  and  bare  in  the  winter 

23 


352  A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER. 

sunshine,  and  over  the  stile  to  the  woods.  A 
wooden  hoarding  had  been  put  up  on  one 
side  of  them  :  someone  had  enclosed  half  the 
ground.  What  did  it  matter?  Perhaps  she 
would  never  see  them  again.  She  trod  the 
dead  leaves  under  foot,  and  looked  up  through 
the  brown  boughs  and  twigs  at  the  winter  sky. 
There  were  hips  and  blackberry  briars  trailing 
on  either  side  the  pathway  with  scarce  a  leaf 
upon  them  ;  but  the  holly-bushes  looked  green 
and  sturdy.  A  thrush  flew  overhead,  giving 
out  a  sweet,  fresh  note,  and  a  little  robin 
hopped  along  the  ground  as  though  it  were  a 
bird  of  lowlier  degree.  She  sat  down  on  a  tree 
that  had  been  felled,  and  spent  a  whole  two 
hours  thinking :  then  a  clock  in  the  distance 
struck  two.  It  was  time  to  go.  She  was  afraid 
to  walk  round  by  Severndroog  Tower,  for  it 
was  there  that  Mr.  Belcher  had  found  her  on 
the  evening  that  he  asked  her  to  marry  him. 
She  took  the  narrow  path  that  led  to  the  high 
road  opposite  the  Bull,  and  walked  slowly  down 
Shooter's  Hill  till  she  came  to  the  turning  with 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  353 

the  well  at  the  corner.  The  White  House  was 
only  a  step  beyond.  A  high  fence,  through 
which  she  could  not  see,  half  hid  it  from  the 
roadway ;  but  the  strangers  who  had  come  to 
live  there  had  children,  for  she  heard  their 
voices  playing  in  the  garden.  She  turned  back 
and  went  swiftly  past  the  post-office  and  the 
Red  Lion,  till  she  came  to  the  lane  between 
the  stuffed-bird  shop  and  Ordnance  Terrace — 
an  old  lady  in  a  widow's  cap,  and  a  girl  stood 
by  the  window  of  the  first  house.  She  thought 
of  them  for  a  minute  as  she  hurried  round  the 
corner.  She  almost  ran  past  the  cottages  in 
the  lane  and  on  to  the  common,  and  through 
the  White  Gate,  and  safely  to  the  station. 

It  was  more  than  an  hour's  journey  from 
Charing  Cross  to  Chilworth,  and  the  twilight 
deepened  into  darkness  as  the  train  went 
through  the  pine  woods  of  Surrey  ;  but  she 
was  there  at  last,  and  stood  in  the  darkness 
and  cold  wondering  what  to  do.  She  had  a 
vague  hope  that  there  might  be  a  message  for 
her  at  the  station,  with  some  direction  to  the 


354  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

house,  but  there  was  none.  The  way  was  up  a 
lane  between  two  green  hedges — the  railway 
porter  pointed  it  out — she  could  scarcely  see 
it  through  the  darkness.  She  walked  on, 
afraid  of  the  loneliness  and  stillness,  for  half  a 
mile  perhaps,  then  the  road  ascended,  and  she 
could  dimly  see  that  there  was  an  open  space 
with  a  road  turning  to  the  right  and  left. 

uMrs.  Alford's,"  a  man  said  in  answer  to 
her  inquiry;  "take  the  road  to  the  left — it  is 
the  second  house.  You'll  find  '  Rooks'  Nest ' 
written  up  on  the  gate."  Tired  and  footsore 
with  the  long  day's  tramp,  but  with  a  sense  of 
scare  and  hurry  that  carried  her  along,  she 
went  for  another  quarter  of  a  mile,  then  she 
stopped  suddenly  by  a  gate.  It  led  to  a  house 
with  fir-trees  standing  up  black  and  straight 
beside  it.  She  pushed  open  the  gate  and 
found  her  way  to  the  door. 

The  bell  rang  loudly,  as  though  the  house 
inside  were  hollow.  She  could  hardly  keep 
her  trembling  self  upright  while  she  heard 
someone  within  coming  to  answer  it.     A  tall 


A  FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  355 

woman  of  five-and-forty  stood  and  looked  at 
her.  By  the  dim  light  of  the  hall  Katherine 
could  see  that  she  was  pale  and  sorrowful- 
looking. 

' 'Is  this  Mrs.  Alford's?"  she  asked  in  a 
voice  she  tried  to  make  steady. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  woman  slowly.  "  You  are 
the  lady  from  Italy,  I  suppose?  I  am  to  let 
you  in — the  mistress  will  see  you  for  a  minute. 
Will  you  come  into  the  dining-room?"  She 
led  the  way  into  a  dark  cold  room,  putting  a 
light  she  carried  from  the  hall  down  on  the  table. 
Then  she  shut  the  door  and  went  towards  Kath- 
erine and  looked  at  her.  "The  mistress  said  I 
was  to  tell  you  first,  ma'am,  and  before  you 
went  to  her,"  she  said  with  infinite  pity  in  her 
voice.  "  You  needn't  mind  my  telling  you  in- 
stead of  her,  for  I  have  been  with  them  more 
or  less  these  five-and-twenty  years,  and  knew 
Mr.  Jim  since  he  was  a  little  boy." 

"Yes,"  said  Katherine,  not  dreaming  of 
what  was  to  come. 

"And    the    mistress    told    me    how    fond 


356  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

you  were  of  him  and  what  a  blow  it  would 
be " 

"Yes,  but  what?"  she  asked,  a  dread  of 
something  terrible  taking  hold  of  her.  "Has 
anything  happened  % " 

"Yes,"  said  the  woman,  nodding  and  speak- 
ing in  a  voice  that  was  almost  a  sob,  "  the  very 
worst  that  could  be  has  happened.  Mr.  Jim 
was  to  start  on  Friday " 

"I  know." 

"And  on  Thursday  night  he  died,  dear 
heart,  and  this  day  he  was  buried." 

"Oh,  my  God ! "  Katherine  cried,  and  fell 
forward.  But  the  woman  caught  her  and 
almost  carried  her  to  the  leather  sofa  behind 
them,  and  sat  down  beside  her,  and  took  off 
her  hat  and  smoothed  the  hair  from  her  fore- 
head. "Oh,  no,  no!"  she  said  presently  "it 
can't  be — it  can't  be  !  " 

"Ah,  poor  dear,  the  mistress  said  you  loved 
him,"  the  woman  answered,  "  and  what  it 
would  be  to  you.  It  was  the  fever  that  took 
him,  on  the  top  of  a  chill  that  he  got  just  three 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  357 

days  before,  and  he  seemed  to  have  no  strength 
to  fight  it  off,  though  he  had  always  been  a 
strong  man,  and  was,  to  look  at,  till  the  last." 

Then  a  quarter  of  an  hour  went  by,  that  in 
looking  back  upon  afterwards  always  seemed 
to  Katherine  to  have  been  like  years. 

"  Did  you  say  that  she  would  see  me  ?  "  she 
asked  at  last. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  she  will  see  you,"  the  woman 
answered  gently,  with  the  helpful  manner  that 
only  belongs  to  an  old  servant,  "but  you 
mustn't  stay  with  her  many  minutes,  for  she 
has  gone  through  a  terrible  day,  and  the  doc- 
tor says  she  is  better  alone.  But  you  shall 
see  her,  and  then  you  must  come  away  with 
me,  and  I'll  give  you  food  and  put  you  to  rest, 
and  you  shall  cry  your  heart  out,  dear,  for 
tears  will  help  you  most."  Something  in  the 
woman's  manner  told  Katherine  that  she  knew 
the  whole  history  of  her  coming.  "There  is 
a  letter  for  you,"  she  went  on,  "but  you  had 
better  see  the  mistress  first,  and  I'll  get  it  for 
you  meanwhile." 


358  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"  Is  it  from  Jim  ? "  slie  asked,  starting. 

"No,  it  only  came  to-day." 

Mrs.  Alford  was  sitting  in  her  own  room  in 
a  high-backed  easy  chair,  over  a  deadened  fire. 
She  turned  her  head,  but  made  no  other  sign 
till  Katherine,  kneeling  down  in  front  of  her, 
kissed  her  black  dress.  Then  she  lifted  her 
hands  and  put  them  on  the  girl's  head  and 
folded  her  to  her  heart  for  a  moment. 

"He  saw  your  letter,"  she  said,  "and  told 
me  to  take  care  of  you,  dear.  But  I  can't 
speak  of  it  to-night,  or  think  of  any  one  but 
him." 

"  Oh,  Mummy,  dear  Mummy  !  "  came  like  a 
little  wail  from  Katherine's  lips,  and  there  was 
a  long  silence. 

"You  shall  belong  to  me,"  the  old  lady 
said  again;  "but  you  must  leave  me  alone 
now.  I  am  trying  to  think  that  it  was  a 
blessed  thing  to  have  had  him  to  love,  but  it  is 
hard  to  feel  anything  except  that  he  has  gone. 
You  must  go  to  Elizabeth."  Then  Katherine 
kissed  her  dress  again,  and  the  thin  hands  that 


A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER.  359 

rested  on  it,  and  went  reverently  from  the 
room. 

Elizabeth  was  waiting  outside  ;  she  had  a 
letter  in  her  hand  and  a  lighted  candle.  "  Per- 
haps you  would  like  to  read  it."  she  said,  and 
held  up  the  light  as  they  stood  on  the  staircase. 
It  was  from  Mrs.  Oswell. 

"My  dear"  it  said,  "  I  have  seen  your 
aunt,  and  she  has  confided  to  me  that  your 
uncle  has  given  Mr.  Belcher  your  address — 
from  a  sense  of  duty,  I  suppose.  Duty 
has  many  cruel  things  in  this  world  to  an- 
swer for.  I  let  you  know  at  once  in  case 
he  should  be  down  upon  you,  but  remem- 
ber Fred  and  I  will  stand  by  you  hard  and 
fast." 

Katherine  read  it  twice,  but  even  theji  she 
was  so  dazed  she  could  hardly  take  it  in ;  and 
when  she  did  it  seemed  so  trifling  a  calam- 
ity she  could  not  realise  it.  She  looked  up 
at  Elizabeth  bewildered.  "  Which  was  his 
room  ? "  she  asked,  like  a  woman  who  was 
dreaming. 


360  A  FLASH  OF  SUMMER. 

"That  one  just  a  few  steps  down,"  the 
woman  answered,  "there — above  the  hall. 
You  had  better  not  see  it  to-night,  dearie." 

"Yes,  let  me,"  she  pleaded.  Without  a 
word  Elizabeth  led  the  way  and  opened  the 
door.  Stillness  and  death  seemed  to  stare 
them  in  the  face.  There  was  a  bookcase  be- 
side the  fireplace,  and  on  the  other  side  were 
two  portmanteaus  and  a  tin  case  piled  one  on 
the  other.  Between  the  windows  and  the  fire- 
place was  a  bedstead,  but  only  a  mattress 
covered  with  a  sheet  was  on  it,  and  at  the  head 
a  pillow.  Between  the  bed  and  the  windows  a 
space  seemed  to  have  been  cleared ;  it  looked 
as  though  something  had  stood  there  that  had 
been  carried  out. 

"Did  he  die  there?"  she  asked,  looking 
towards  the  bed. 

"  Yes,"  nodded  Elizabeth  ;  "with  his  head 
on  that  pillow.  It  may  be  you  would  like  to 
be  alone  a  few  minutes,"  and  putting  the  light 
on  a  chest  of  drawers,  she  went  softly  from 
the  room.    Then  Katherine  went  up  to  the  bed, 


A   FLASH   OF  SUMMER.  3^1 

and  knelt  down,  took  the  pillow  and  hid  her 
face  in  it. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  sharp  ringing  of  the 
front-door  bell.  She  heard  footsteps  go  to- 
wards it,  and  buried  her  face  deeper  into  the 
pillow  and  pulled  it  round  her  head,  and  bit 
its  white  cover,  and  kissed  it  with  the  wild 
kisses  of  passion  that  only  means  despair. 
Then  the  door  was  opened,  and  her  own  name 
and  a  voice  she  knew  well  enough  fell  upon 
her  ear.  Someone  entered,  and  the  street-door 
was  closed. 

Mr.  Belcher  had  found  her. 


THE  END. 


A 


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as  if  by  magic,  and  who  portrays  character,  scenery,  and  feeling  with  an  ease  w  hich  is 
only  exceeded  by  the  boldness  of  force." — Boston  Globe. 

"The  book  will  get  and  hold  the  closest  attention  of  the  reader." — American 
Bookseller. 

"  Mr.  Rudyard  Kipling's  place  in  the  world  of  letters  is  unique.  He  sits  quite  aloof 
and  alone,  the  incomparable  and  inimitable  master  of  the  exquisitely  fine  art  of  short- 
story  writing.  Mr.  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  has  perhaps  written  several  tales  which 
match  the  run  of  Mr.  Kipling's  work,  but  the  best  of  Mr.  Kipling's  tales  are  matchless, 
and  his  latest  collection,  'Many  Inventions,'  contains  several  such." — Philadelphia 
Press. 

"Of  late  essays  in  fiction  the  work  of  Kipling  can  be  compared  to  only  three — 
Blackmore's  '  Lorna  Doone,'  Stevenson's  marvelous  sketch  of  Villon  in  the  'New 
Arabian  Nights,'  and  Thomas  Hardy's  '  Tess  of  the  1/ Urbervilles.'  .  .  .  It  is  probably 
owing  to  this  extreme  care  that  '  Many  Inventions  '  is  undoubtedly  Mr.  Kipling's  best 
book." — Chicago  Post. 

"  Mr.  Kipling's  style  i6  too  well  known  to  American  readers  to  require  introduction, 
but  it  can  scarcely  be  amiss  to  say  there  is  not  a  story  in  this  collection  that  does  not 
more  than  repay  a  perusal  of  them  all." — Baltimore  American. 

"  As  a  writer  of  short  stories  Rudyard  Kipling  is  a  genius.  He  has  had  imitators, 
but  they  have  not  been  successful  in  dimming  the  luster  of  his  achievements  by  con- 
trast. .  .  .  'Many  Inventions'  is  the  title.  And  they  are  inventions— entirely  origi- 
nal in  incident,  ingenious  in  plot,  and  startling  by  their  boldness  and  force." — Rochester 
Herald. 

"How  clever  he  is!  This  must  always  be  the  first  thought  on  reading  such  a 
collection  of  Kipling's  stories.  Here  is  art — art  of  the  most  consummate  sort  Com- 
pared with  this,  the  stories  of  our  brightest  young  writers  become  commonplace."— 
New  York  Evangelist. 

"  Taking  the  group  as  a  whole,  it  may  be  said  that  the  execution  is  up  to  his  best 
in  the  past,  while  two  or  three  sketches  surpass  in  rounded  strength  and  vividness  ol 
imagination  anything  else  he  has  done." — Hartford  Courant. 

"Fifteen  more  extraordinary  sketches,  without  a  tinge  of  sensationalism,  it  would 
be  hard  to  find.  .  .  .  Every  one  has  an  individuality  of  its  own  which  fascinates  tb» 
reader." — Boston  Times. 


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